


Wolf Moon

by pocketmumbles (livelikejack)



Series: Wolf Moon 'verse [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Fix-It, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-02-05 09:42:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 93,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1813945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livelikejack/pseuds/pocketmumbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the night of 2013’s Wolf Moon, eighteen-year-old Scott McCall travels back in time to change Derek’s past and, hopefully, their future.</p><p>The morning after 2003’s Wolf Moon, fifteen-year-old Derek Hale wakes up after meeting a teen wolf named Scott. And then the story really begins.</p><p>(Or, the time travel story that isn’t about the time travel at all, but rather a complete rewriting of canon spanning fifteen years and every character along the way. Canon divergent/AU after Season 3B.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 2013

**Author's Note:**

> This is the most self-indulgent fic in the world. Derek Hale grows up with friends and family. If you’re hoping for time travel shenanigans…this is not the fic you’re looking for. I only used time travel as a mechanism to reboot the story. Nothing from Season 4 or later is included. The fic is only 3 chapters long; Chapter 4 is just a couple of charts of Derek's 90% OC family. I was heavily influenced by ["The Call" by Regina Spektor](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oNsQewlFtEs) while writing this.
> 
> Exactly 6 people die here:  
> \- Deucalion  
> \- Gerard Argent  
> \- Peter Hale  
> \- Matt Daehler (on screen, hence the Minor Character Death tag)  
> \- Mr. Lahey  
> \- Bennett the hunter who was killed by the kanima did you forget about him I bet you forgot about him
> 
> Literally everyone else from Seasons 1-3B is alive and most of them are in the fic. (Well, Claudia Stilinski and Camden Lahey are still dead, because those were completely unrelated to the main story.)
> 
> Scott’s birthday is January 26, because those official calendars aren’t canon compliant anyway, and I made up a solid age for Derek (23 in 2011). I took lots of liberties with creature mythology. Deputy Parrish’s backstory is completely made up. Malia and Jackson are long-lost fraternal twins because I find the Jackson Hale fan theory endlessly entertaining.
> 
> The POVs are Scott and Derek, but this is very much an ensemble fic. Minor pairings, in fic order: Derek/Paige, Ennis/Julia/Kali (mentioned), Braeden/Derek, Jackson/Lydia, Allison/Scott, Kira/Scott (mentioned), Danny/Ethan (mentioned), Boyd/Cora/Erica, Allison/Kira, Lydia/Stiles, Danny/Isaac (mentioned), Derek/Parrish, Scott/OMC, Danny/Jackson.
> 
> The rating is Explicit, but 98% of this fic is PG-13, dipping into R at points for violence (canon-typical, but a little graphic in my opinion). Just…throwing that out there.
> 
> EDIT: I forgot about the mix I made while I was writing this! 16 pop-punk songs from 2003-2013, because I feel like teen!Derek would be the type of guy to listen to Fall Out Boy and Something Corporate, and Scott would definitely listen to Blink-182 and Paramore. (I cheated time-wise with Jimmy Eat World, because Jimmy Eat World.) Listen [here](http://8tracks.com/livelikejack/wolf-moon) if you'd like.  
>  _Part One_  
>  1\. This Is Gospel - Panic! at the Disco  
> 2\. Even If She Falls - Blink-182  
> 3\. Konstantine - Something Corporate  
> 4\. Miss Atomic Bomb - The Killers  
> 5\. The Kids From Yesterday - My Chemical Romance  
> 6\. Alone Together - Fall Out Boy  
>  _Part Two_  
>  7\. Feeling This - Blink-182  
> 8\. Anklebiters - Paramore  
> 9\. When You Were Young - The Killers  
> 10\. Hear You Me - Jimmy Eat World  
> 11\. This Is Gospel (Piano Version) - Panic! at the Disco  
>  _Part Three_  
>  12\. I Woke Up In A Car - Something Corporate  
> 13\. Pressure - Paramore  
> 14\. Of All The Gin Joints In All The World - Fall Out Boy  
> 15\. Ambulance - My Chemical Romance  
> 16\. A Praise Chorus - Jimmy Eat World
> 
> I'm on [Tumblr](http://www.pocketlass.tumblr.com), if you wanna say hi.

 

_When I first met you, I thought you were this creepy, scary guy who hated me and didn’t really care about anyone. I was scared, and I was confused, and I thought you didn’t care._

_You were just as scared and confused as I was, though. Me, Malia, Stiles, Lydia, and even Kira, you know, we’ve been raised through this life. We’ve grown up in constant danger. You didn’t, you were just as unprepared as we were, and I thought you were so old and grown-up when I met you, but twenty-three is still really young. I’m eighteen now and I feel like I know more about this world than you did then._

_I wish we hadn’t gotten such terrible first impressions of each other. It might have…no use in wondering, though. I’m glad we finally learned how to understand each other. I’m glad I have you._

They come together and drift apart and come together again as the months take them further away from Allison. Scott stays close to Stiles’ side, terrified that if he leaves him he’ll find him gone, and pours all his efforts into teaching Malia. Lydia closes off from them all, stomping through the halls with daggers in her eyes. Kira drifts closer to Derek, quietly learning as much as she can while she still can’t quite look her mother in the eye. She glances as Scott as she picks up her sword, and she isn’t Allison with her knives but they see her all the same. Something breaks between them, and he can’t pick the pieces up again.

They come back together because they have to. Lydia calls him from an abandoned building and says, “Someone is going to die,” and they come back together. The wendigo tears through the lacrosse team, and Danny will always have a jagged scar running down his chest, but they defeat it in the end with another pile of bodies in their wake. They watch the wendigo change back into their math teacher and get hauled away in the back of the Sheriff’s squad car, but more classmates are dead and Danny won’t look them in the eye anymore.

They start to meet in Derek’s loft. It’s hesitant at first, checking in with each other and keeping everyone up to date, and slowly some of their cracks begin to weld. Lydia spends more time with Stiles and takes Malia shopping, arguing fashion sense with Kira at the mall and loading the boys down with piles of clothes from Macy’s. Kira trains more confidently with Derek and asks Scott for advice, and one day Scott comes home to find Derek helping his mom with dinner. Stiles takes Lydia to the Spring Formal, and Kira teaches Malia how to dance. Danny finds Scott, the edge of the scar peeking over his collar, and apologizes for blaming him, asks him for a dance.

Their new music teacher turns out to be a succubus, and they trap her powers and defeat her easily. She gives them detentions for the rest of the semester. Danny ends up paralyzed in the hospital again, but he laughs it off, claims that he kind of likes his scar. Scott catches Ms. Morrell coming out of the Preserve at the beginning of summer, limping and bruised but satisfied, and he doesn’t ask. They never see the succubus again.

Kira notices Stiles and Lydia before he does, and she gleefully lords her superior attentiveness over him until Derek tells them both that he’d known for the past month. Stiles tells Scott a few days later, and he tries his hardest to act surprised. Derek and Kira don’t bother acting surprised at all when the couple tell them; Lydia pouts until Malia assures her that she’d had no idea, and Derek takes them all out for cheesecake.

Derek’s really fond of cheesecake. He’s good at making it from scratch, too. Scott watches him hum to himself in the kitchen, wearing a stupid apron covered in abs that Kira and Stiles bought him as a joke, and he wonders what else he’d never had the chance to learn about Derek before.

He learns that Derek hates ketchup. They find out when they watch him quietly grimace his way through an entire hot dog instead of telling them that he didn’t like the toppings. Stiles calls him a weirdo hot dog martyr, and Derek flicks him in the middle of his forehead. Scott watches the five of them bicker and fling food at each other with warmth pooling in his gut. They’re together. They’re _pack_. They’re…they’re not okay, but. They might be, one day. Maybe.

Derek flings his head back, eyes scrunched shut and laughing with complete abandon, and something in Scott’s chest seizes. Kira shoots him a smug, knowing look, and he does the mature thing and dumps relish on her head.

 

“Scott,” Lydia says slowly. It’s just the two of them; Derek and Malia are patrolling with Stiles and Kira is at dinner with her parents. Scott turns towards her warily. That tone of voice usually means something – not necessarily bad, but definitely not good. “I’ve been looking through Peter’s laptop.”

Peter’s gone, long gone, tearing across the globe in search of a child he may never find after Scott took away his memories of the name, and Scott hopes they never see him again. It’s been months. Maybe they won’t. He steels himself for whatever she’s about to tell him. “What did you find?”

“There’s a spell,” she says haltingly. Not The Spell, the one that Peter had used her for; they never found that one, and the moon’s power wouldn’t help a human or a long-rotted omega anyway. “I think…I think it can send us back in time.”

“Back in time?” They can go back, stop the Oni from stabbing Allison, or the nogitsune from possessing Stiles, or the alpha pack from…hope slices through him as sharply as the katana sliding into his gut.

Lydia nods rapidly, picking up on his excitement. “I have to look into it more, see if it’s as real as it claims to be, but we could change things, Scott.” She leans in. “We could rewrite time.”

Scott thinks of Allison’s blood-stained lips, and Malia smiling at her claws. He thinks of Derek looking around his bare loft, and Lydia looking at Stiles like he’s something to be treasured. He thinks of Kira, and Boyd, and Erica. He thinks of how far they’ve come, and how much farther they have to go. “Is it worth it?” he asks.

She bites her lip. “I don’t know.”

 

_It’s been a year since Allison –_

_It’s been a year._

_You never really had a chance to mourn Laura, did you?_

_Even when you buried her, some freaking idiots desecrated her grave. That was – words can’t express how wrong that was, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It doesn’t matter what I thought, it doesn’t matter that I didn’t know. I took that away from you. I didn’t even let you have that for your family._

_And you’ve been so strong for us while we try to – how do you carry so much hurt? How do you get through it? It hurts so much, I know she’s gone and she’s never coming back but it’s like I’m getting stabbed over and over again. It’s been a year and it hurts just as much as it did when she –_

_– when she died in my arms. I couldn’t save her._

_I can’t save anyone._

 

On the anniversary of Allison’s death, Malia hovers uncertainly around them, close enough for comfort but just far enough out of reach. Kira watches them carefully at school, discreetly wiping her own tears away and keeping a steady presence at Lydia’s side. Lydia stands ramrod straight, expressionless and aloof and utterly dead behind the eyes. Stiles sits on the other side of the room, as far away from her as he can, hiding from her sight as much as possible. It’s not his fault, it was never his fault, it wasn’t him who killed her, but he bows under the guilt all the same. Scott swallows his grief as much as he can and stays close to him.

Kira doesn’t bother going to lacrosse practice, just gets into the driver’s seat of Lydia’s Toyota Prius after the bell rings and drives them to her house. Scott takes Stiles with him to talk to Coach – Stiles is barely hanging together, he can’t let him out of his sight, they have to go – but Danny steps into their path. “I’ll tell Coach,” he says, eyes soft and sad. Ethan had never told him about Aiden; he’d found out later, by accident, and he’s never really been the same since. “Go. Make sure he’s okay.”

They huddle together in Stiles’ bed, the way they did after Scott’s dad left and after Stiles’ mom died, and Scott rubs his back while Stiles silently shakes, trembling lips pressed together and breath drawing jaggedly through his lungs. They sit quietly as the sun sets and moonlight casts shadows on the bed, frail echoes of themselves that don’t rise to taunt them. Scott tucks Stiles’ head under his chin and listens to his heartbeat as the sun rises and Stiles’ alarm blares, and they climb off the bed with stiff limbs and eat breakfast and go to school as if nothing’s wrong.

Lydia marches up to Stiles as soon as she sees him and pulls him down for a kiss. “Good morning,” she chirps, eyes bright and playful and alive again, and no one mentions it if she hugs him for a beat longer than usual. Kira doodles in Scott’s notebook during history class, as always, and Lydia despairs of him in AP Bio, as always, and Stiles snarks at him during lacrosse practice while Lydia tries to explain the rules to Malia, as always. Lydia climbs down from the bleachers and into Stiles’ Jeep after, and they all hug each other goodbye for the weekend before driving off in separate directions.

Scott parks his dirtbike in the garage under the loft and climbs up to the top floor. The door opens before he knocks, as always, and he smells chicken and dumplings wafting from the kitchen. He steps in, drops his backpack to the floor, and turns around as the door slides shut.

Derek doesn’t say a word, just holds out an arm, and Scott collapses into him and finally lets himself cry.

 

“Lydia told me about the spell,” Malia says, crouching next to the car and making sure the doll is safely tucked away. “Even if it’s just a possibility, she said I deserved to know about it first since…” She backs up and stands next to Scott. “You know.”

He hadn’t known. But looking at the rusted car covered in scratches and dried blood, he’s struck by a sudden realization. “We might not be able to change what happened to you.”

“It’s too far in the past, and it’s too separated from everything else,” Malia says. She jams her hands into her pockets. “It’s…the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one, right?”

Kira’s getting Malia into Star Trek. She’s a big fan of Spock, so far. “We’re not any more important than you, Malia.”

“I’ll still be alive,” she says. “That’s the important part, isn’t it? If we’re all alive, we can find each other again. You can come find me again. And Boyd, Erica, Allison,” she hesitates over the last name, watching his face carefully, “I never got to meet them. I’d like to.”

“But your family…”

“I’m never going to get them back,” Malia says. She looks away from the car as a tear rolls down her cheek. “And maybe I don’t deserve that. But Derek’s my family, and you’re all my family. Scott, you gave me my life back. Twice.” She grabs his hand and squeezes firmly. “I’ll do anything I can to give you yours back, too.”

****

He brings it up with Derek exactly once. It goes about as well as anyone would have expected.

Derek’s eyes snap open as soon as Scott’s stomach rumbles, fully alert and coiled tight as a spring in a matter of seconds. He falls asleep quickly and wakes almost instantly, Scott’s learned from all the times he’s fallen asleep on the couch downstairs during late night meetings at Scott’s house. Those mornings, Scott will creep as quietly as possible from his room down to the kitchen, only to find Derek fully dressed and already setting up the coffee machine. It doesn’t seem to matter how much – or how little – sleep Derek gets the night before; he’s the lightest sleeper Scott knows.

Like tonight, when Derek fell asleep on Scott’s couch half an hour ago instead of having (a very late, after tracking some mysterious creature through the Preserve for hours) dinner. He feels guilty for waking him up, but he probably would’ve woken up as soon as Scott opened the fridge, anyway. He clears his throat while Derek waits patiently, eyes darting over the exits and muscles slowly relaxing from the lack of imminent danger.

“There was,” he says hesitantly. He’s the alpha, he needs to be straightforward, and it’s important to lay everything out in the open. But the last thing he wants to do is give Derek false hope. “There may be a spell that can send someone back in time-”

“No,” Derek says immediately. He looks straight at Scott so that he can watch the iron gate slam shut behind Derek’s eyes.

“Are you sure?” Scott asks. “We don’t even know if it can actually work or if it’s just a myth. Lydia’s looking into it.”

“Do with it what you will,” he says. “But I don’t want anything to do with it.”

“Okay,” Scott says, squeezing Derek’s shoulder with an easy smile. “Pizza?”

There’s still tension in his shoulders, but his eyes aren’t as hard as they were a minute ago. Scott counts it as a win. “No mushrooms.”

“Extra olives,” Scott finishes, rolling his eyes while he dials. “I know, Derek.”

Derek blinks at him. “You don’t like olives,” he says. “You – we don’t have to…” He trails off, looking frustrated, and Scott decides to help him before he sprains something trying to use his words.

“I don’t mind olives,” he says. “Maybe I’m even starting to like them.”

He ends up giving Derek most of his olives. It’s okay. Derek loves olives.

 

_I feel like I’m finally getting to know you. Not just how you fight and the choices you make under pressure and who you would defend and who you would die for –_

_– us, all of us, you’d die for all of us and I know that now, I’ve always known that –_

_– but the little things, too, like how you love olives and thumbhole sweaters and hate ketchup and the color orange. I know what makes you laugh, and I know how to make you laugh, and I know that you’re not half bad at cooking but you’re only half good at it, too. I know that you don’t like being alone, that you’re still not used to being alone, but you keep away anyway for your own sake as much as ours._

_I know that you’ll always argue with me over the important things, because we’ll never see eye to eye, we’re just too different and I love that about us. I love that you won’t just agree with me and I love that you won’t back down and I love that you’ll do that with me, you’ll talk to me now and you’re open with me and that means so much that you trust me enough to let me in._

_I know when you’re happy. I’m your alpha, so I can feel it when you’re happy, and that makes me happy because you deserve to be happy, you deserve to feel that way. I just always want you to be happy and I just always want to make you happy and I just – I’d do anything for you._

_I love you._

 

It’s the chimera that does it.

An honest-to-god chimera, its lion’s head crunching through Derek’s Toyota like paper, its snake tail spitting venom that bubbles on the asphalt, and its goat’s head – its _freaking goat’s head coming out of its damn spine_ – breathing fire. Fire. Of course the goat’s head breathes fire.

The snake bites into Stiles’ leg, dropping him to the ground immediately as he howls in pain. Kira wrenches his leg from the snake’s jaws, pulling him to safety and shielding him with her own body as the goat belches fire over them. She staggers to her feet as he convulses in her arms with a fang buried in his leg. “Get him to Deaton!” Scott yells. Lydia’s arm is already broken, and she tries to cast spells one-handed while Malia guards her, but through the pain and without Stiles to help her, her magic is frail. He pushes her after them. “Go!”

It’s simple enough. He just has to rip its heart out. He has to get underneath it, somehow, not get trampled underneath its massive paws or attacked by one of its three heads, and then it’s a simple punch and grab. “I’ll distract it,” Derek says, popping his shoulder back into its socket and nodding at Malia while she wobbles on a leg that isn’t fully healed yet. “We can do this.” He runs at the chimera, ducking under the goat and slices under its ribs, and then the lion reaches back and tears into his side. The snake winds around Scott’s legs, trapping him on the ground, and he watches helplessly as the lion lifts Derek and flings him away like a toy. He slams through three trees and lands in a broken sprawl, skin rubbed raw and the entire right side of his body crushed.

The chimera leaps after him, loosening its grip on Scott, and he dives after it, sinking his claws around the snake and pulling it back towards him. The snake spits venom onto his arm and chest, but the lion still roars towards Derek while he struggles to his feet. Malia lunges forward, but the goat dips its head and gores her on its horns before tossing her aside. Scott reaches forward with his other hand, ignoring his skin blistering from the venom, and grips the goat’s neck, turns it to face him and roars in its face.

Flames engulf him. The lion pounces on him with a roar, raining blows down onto his burned, raw flesh. It doesn’t matter, though, because he can see the ribs above him, he can hear its heart thumping. He lets go of the snake and plunges up with his claws, clenches tight, and rips the heart free. It thumps grotesquely in his hand, and then the chimera shrieks and collapses on top of him.

His ribs are crushed, he heard them snap, but it barely hurts. Malia plucks the heart from his hand and tears it into pieces while Derek shoves the twitching carcass aside and cradles Scott’s head. “Scott!” he shouts distantly. “Scott, stay with me. You’re going to be okay. You’re going to heal, and you’ll be okay, please, you have to be okay.”

He hears the rumble of a car’s engine, Malia’s harsh breathing and Lydia swallowing down a scream, and Derek murmuring softly to him like a mantra, like a prayer, “You have to be okay, Scott, you have to, please don’t leave me, Scott, I can’t lose you, please, Scott, please.”

 

He hears Stiles’ heart, and Lydia’s and Malia’s and Kira’s a little further away, and even further but strongest of all, Derek’s. He opens his eyes with a sigh. “We all made it.”

“Yeah, you almost didn’t,” Stiles says shakily. His leg is bandaged and propped up in a chair, and he clutches Scott’s hand. “You didn’t see yourself when Derek brought you in. What, did you just sit in front of the goat’s head or something?”

“More or less,” Scott says. He doesn’t try to sit up, since Stiles probably wouldn’t let him and he doesn’t particularly feel up for it in the first place. He realizes that he’s completely naked between the fluffy blankets, and that there probably aren’t even enough remnants of his clothes to put back on. “That bad, huh?”

“You were more char than person,” Stiles says. “And you were pumped full of the snake venom, _and_ you broke every single rib you have and poked like ten holes in your lungs.”

Scott winces. “Sorry.”

“Yeah, you should be.”

“But you’re okay? You, Kira, Malia, Lydia,” he swallows around the name, “Derek?”

“Kira was burned pretty badly,” Stiles says. “Not as bad as _you_ , but they went pretty deep. She’s fully recovered by now, though. Same with Malia, even though she had a really gross stab wound at first. Lydia has a broken arm and a hell of a magic hangover, but she’s fine. I’m a little wobbly and I get to have a fun boring diet for the next couple of days, but I’m also fine.”

“And Derek?” Scott rasps. Stiles holds out a glass of water and helps him lean up enough to drink from the straw.

“Well, he did that anti-healing guilt trip for a while when Deaton wasn’t sure if you were going to make it.” The glass sloshes violently in Stiles’ hand before he stabilizes himself. “But Kira screamed at him and cried and eventually managed to guilt him out of his guilt trip. I’m still not really sure how that worked, but I think she had to invoke the ‘Do It For Scott’ clause.”

“Shit.” Scott leans his head back on the pillow and blinks up at the ceiling. Deaton’s exam table isn’t the most comfortable surface in the world, but he really doesn’t feel like moving. “I’m sorry, Stiles. I didn’t mean to-”

“Almost die?” Stiles finishes. He sets the glass down, eyes wet. “Scott, you don’t understand. Deaton said – Scott, man, it was bad. Lydia wouldn’t even talk, she was so scared she was going to scream. I started,” he rubs his hands nervously over his legs and chokes over his words, “I started trying to think of what to tell your mom. That’s how serious it was, Scott. I was getting ready to tell Melissa that her son – that I-”

“Stiles.” Scott pushes himself upright and pulls Stiles in, ignoring the pain screaming through his newly-healed flesh and bones. “Stiles, I’m so sorry. I’m here, okay? I’m okay? I’m here now, and I’m sorry, I had to, I’m sorry.”

“I thought I was gonna lose you,” Stiles sobs, shaking in Scott’s arms. “Scott, I thought you were gone. I – you can’t _ever_ do that again, okay? I don’t care what it’s for, it’s not worth it. It’s not worth it if you die.”

“Okay,” Scott says helplessly, and Stiles doesn’t need werewolf ears to hear the lie. They both know that something exactly like this will happen again, and again, and again, until their luck runs out one day, and Scott just hopes it’s him that falls instead of them. He won’t let it happen any other way. He _can’t_.

Stiles shudders heavily and lets go. “Okay,” he says. “The girls want to see you, and Deaton needs to tell you how to not accidentally rupture your new spleen or whatever. Ms. Morrell took care of the carcass, by the way.”

“Where’s Derek?” Scott asks.

“He, uh,” Stiles says. “He took it pretty badly. As soon as you were stable, and Deaton said we just had to wait for you to wake up, he took off. I don’t know where he is. He promised he’d keep his phone on, but.” He looks down. “I don’t think he could stand to be around all this. You know, the fire, and the…you…of it all.”

“Okay,” Scott says, and doesn’t nod because his head already aches. That’s fair. Derek has every right to be upset with him. He’ll wait for Derek to calm down, and when Derek comes back, he’ll yell at Scott and Scott will apologize and refuse to do anything differently, and they’ll be okay again.

Kira hugs him carefully and cries into his blanket, and Malia won’t stop smoothing his hair and petting his arm. Lydia exhales slowly, and says, “About time you woke up.” Her voice squeaks and cracks through all five words, and they pretend not to notice.

 

After a week of not seeing Derek around – Melissa frowns when he doesn’t show up for dinner on Wednesday night, and asks him if they’re fighting – Stiles tells Scott, “Uh, I think this might be one where you need to go to him.”

“I don’t want to – I’m respecting his boundaries,” Scott says. “I don’t want to overstep. I don’t want to box him into something he doesn’t want to do.”

“And that’s great,” Stiles says. “I’m really glad you do that for him. But in this case, Scott, you need to go to him first, okay? Trust me on this.”

“Okay.” He’s always trusted Stiles. He’ll always trust Stiles. “I trust you. I’ll do it.”

 

He stops Lydia before she leaves with Stiles after practice. “That thing we talked about,” he says quietly. She freezes, staring at him with wide eyes. “Did you look into it more?”

She nods. “It’s real. It’s limited, I’m not sure how much we’ll be able to do, but it’s definitely real.”

He presses his lips together, then nods once. “It’s worth it.”

 

The loft door doesn’t open when he gets there, which is a bad sign. Scott takes a deep breath, raises his fist to knock, then lowers it. “Derek?” he calls softly instead. “Can I talk to you?” Derek doesn’t answer, but Scott hears him step slowly and deliberately to the door, stopping just on the other side of it. “I’m sorry,” Scott says. “Actually, no, I’m not sorry, because if I hadn’t gone after the chimera then it definitely would have killed you, and I can’t – I’m not going to let you die, you mean too much to me-”

The door slams open, and Scott barely registers Derek yanking him forward by the shirt before he crushes their mouths together in a bruising kiss. He tastes blood against his teeth, and he’s not actually sure if it’s his or if it’s Derek’s. “I can’t,” Derek says, mouthing frantically along his jaw, “I can’t – Scott, if you die. You can’t.”

It’s like a floodgate bursting free, the ground dropping out from under his feet. He steps into Derek’s arms and lets himself fall. “I’m sorry,” Scott hears himself babble as he tugs Derek’s mouth back up to his. “Derek, I’m sorry, I-”

“I need you, Scott,” Derek says desperately, trailing into a whimper as Scott wraps a hand around the back of his neck. “Scott, _please_.”

The door slides shut behind him, but he’s too busy tugging Derek’s shirt off to notice. He drops a kiss over his collarbone, his ribs, the trail of hair below his navel. Derek pulls him upright, and Scott gasps as he feels Derek’s cock pressing hard against his. “Want,” he pants, “Derek, I want-”

“Bed,” Derek says, sucking on Scott’s bottom lip, and Scott nods frantically. Derek grabs him by the hips and tugs him up until his toes brush the floor. He wraps his legs tight around Derek’s waist, grinding slow and sweet against him. Derek peppers his neck in greedy bites and gentle kisses. “Off,” he mumbles, tugging at Scott’s shirt with his teeth, “Come on, get this off.”

Scott rips his shirt off before Derek gently lowers him onto the mattress, crowding over him immediately and trailing kisses down his body. “Need you,” he whispers against his skin. “Need you, Scott, you _can’t_ -”

Scott pulls him back up and kisses him gently. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry.” Derek shakes his head, biting down hard on Scott’s lower lip before soothing the bruises with his tongue. His hands scrabble over Scott’s chest, unsure and yearning. “I’m sorry,” Scott repeats desperately. “Derek, I lo-” Derek covers his mouth with his own, kissing him deep and swallowing the words down.

Scott carefully trails his hand down Derek’s trembling spine. “Is this okay?” he asks, settling his hand at the small of his back and pulling him closer.

Derek nods, eyes squeezed shut as he mouths at Scott’s neck, sucking marks that fade almost instantly. “Anything.”

“Tell me what you want,” Scott says. “Derek.” He pulls Derek up and cups his face gently between his hands. “Derek, tell me what you want.”

Derek stares back at him, eyes wide and unguarded with pupils blown dark. “I want you,” he says, heart hammering. “I just want you, Scott.”

“Okay,” Scott says, and leans up for a kiss. He carefully rolls them, settling between Derek’s legs. Derek shivers when Scott leans over him and brackets him in with his arms. “Is this okay?” Derek nods and surges up, crushing their mouths together.

He trails his lips down Derek’s jaw, nuzzling into the hollow of his throat when Derek whines and tilts his head back. He kisses down Derek’s chest and flicks his tongue over a nipple. Derek gasps, arching against him. Scott sucks the nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue as he drags his hand down Derek’s twitching abs. He crooks a finger under the waistband of his pants. “Derek?”

“Yes,” Derek gasps, thrusting up against Scott’s hand. He groans as Scott palms him through the thin fabric, hands flying up to unbutton Scott’s jeans. “Yes, Scott, _please_ , yes.” He pulls Derek’s pants and underwear off and kicks his way out of his own jeans.

Derek grabs him by the hips and leans in to mouth at his cock through his underwear. His hips jerk forward as Derek sucks at the tip and moans around the growing wet spot. “ _God_ , Derek.” He gently pushes Derek back onto the bed, slides his underwear off, and grinds their cocks together.

“Fuck.” Derek arches underneath him, fingers digging into his back. “Fuck, Scott, oh god.” Scott reaches down to wrap a hand around them, and Derek’s head falls back. _“Scott.”_

Scott gasps, stroking them together. Derek’s cock slides against his, hard and heavy and hot. He lets go of his own cock, thumbing at Derek’s slit before pumping him fast and tight.

Derek’s mouth falls open. His chest heaves. “Scott,” he gasps. He thrusts desperately into Scott’s grip, sweat glistening over his chest. “Scott, need, I need-” Scott kisses him, filthy and deep, and Derek comes with a whine, spilling over Scott’s fist.

Scott groans, head dropping to Derek’s throat as he grinds into the groove of his hip. Derek’s hand slides through his hair, baring his neck. “Come on, Scott,” he murmurs. “Wanna feel you.” Scott’s hips stutter frantically against his. He bites down into Derek’s neck as he comes, muffling his moans into Derek’s skin.

He collapses onto one arm, but Derek pulls him back on top of him anyway. He hums contentedly while Scott soothes the mark on his neck with kisses. Derek dazedly drags a finger through the cum on his hip, and Scott watches him suck his finger into his mouth. Scott groans and leans up to kiss him, tasting himself on Derek’s tongue.

He starts to get up and find something to clean them off with, but Derek’s arm locks around his waist and tugs him back down. “Don’t go,” Derek says, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

“I was just,” Scott says, then gives up and flops back down as Derek sucks softly into his throat. His beard tickles against Scott’s skin. He likes it. “I’m not going anywhere, Derek.”

“Just. Stay.” Derek looks up at him, eyes desperately pushing down hope. He swallows. “Please?”

“Okay.” He wipes his hand on the sheet and tugs up a corner of it to clean Derek off before settling more comfortably against him. He strokes the bite mark on Derek’s neck with his thumb. “Anything you want.” Derek’s heart pounds, and Scott feels a trembling hand wind into his hair. He presses a kiss to Derek’s skin and lets himself drift off.

 

_I think you thought I was asleep_

_– and I don’t know, maybe you were even asleep, too –_

_but last night I heard you whisper, “I want to keep you for the rest of my life.”_

_and –_

_Derek –_

_I don’t know how to –_

_You’re twenty-five years old, and I know you don’t expect to make it to thirty._

_I don’t know if any of us will._

_I don’t want you to die._

_I don’t want any of us to die._

_I don’t want to die._

_I’m scared._

****

“Are you sure about this?” Stiles asks. “Once we go back, this timeline is gone forever. I mean, we don’t know how it’s going to change, it could end up being even worse.”

“Or it could end up being even better,” Scott says. “And if there’s a chance that this doesn’t happen,” this being the nogitsune, or the alpha pack, or the chimera, or the kanima, or Peter Hale, or any of the deaths filling so many pages in the obituaries, “Then I want that chance.”

“Okay,” Stiles says, nodding firmly. “If you’re sure, then I’m with you.”

They meet at Scott’s house, not Derek’s loft, and Lydia passes around printed scans of the spell and her carefully organized notes. “The tricky part is the time span,” she says. “The further back you go, the more power you need, and it builds exponentially.”

“We need to go back a decade,” Scott says. He looks at a page filled with mathematical calculations, turns it upside down, then turns it right side up again. It doesn’t make any more sense. “How bad is it?”

“Well,” Lydia says. “You’re an alpha werewolf, which is a big power boost. Malia is a werecoyote, which is also powerful. I’m a banshee, which isn’t too bad, and Deaton’s trained Stiles to harness his belief enough to give him a power boost.”

“What about me?” Kira asks. “I’m a thunder kitsune, that helps, right?”

“Yes, that helps a lot,” Lydia says. She hesitates. “Between the five of us, we can send someone back six years.”

“That’s not enough,” Scott says immediately.

“I know, Scott,” Lydia says. “Six is our safe estimate. It’s guaranteed to work, the timeline will seal at both ends, and the traveler will survive the process.”

“Wait a minute,” Malia says. “ _Survive_ the process?”

“The timeline has to close at the traveler’s end,” Lydia says. “And since it’s just one person on that end, they usually have to use their life force to power it. But as long as myself, Scott, Kira, or Malia goes back, our bigger boost will keep us alive.”

“But even if the traveler dies there, it’s fine,” Stiles says. “It just means that they don’t get a fresh start, they just remember the old timeline, too.” He glares between Scott and Lydia. “Which means that it’s okay if I go back, too.”

There isn’t a chance that Scott’s going to let Stiles remember everything, not after the nogitsune. “I calculated other options,” Lydia says. “We can stretch it to seven years if the traveler doesn’t survive. And…” she glances at Stiles, then looks down, “If the four of us power it on this end and Stiles goes back, we can make it to eight years.”

“That isn’t an option,” Scott says.

“Scott, that takes us to 2005,” Stiles says. “That’s when the fire happened, we can stop most of it. Derek can have his family, Erica and Boyd and-” his voice cracks. “-Allison can all live. That’s most of it right there, you can’t tell me that isn’t an option.”

“Malia’s family will still die,” Scott says. “And,” he adds when Malia starts to speak, “We can’t stop Deucalion or Jennifer or Gerard from there. They’re going to come back anyway, and people will still die. That isn’t an option.” He looks at the other pages. “What are the other options?”

“Well,” Lydia says, glancing at Kira. “It’s – it’s that thing we talked about,” she says to her.

“It’s my tails,” Kira says.

Scott frowns. “You don’t have any tails.”

“No, but I will one day,” Kira says. “So if I give them up before the fact, that’s a lot of power.”

“Kira,” Scott says. “I can’t ask you to-”

“If it works, it won’t matter,” she says. “I’ll have them in the new timeline.”

“But it could fail,” Scott says. “And then you won’t have your tails.”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take,” Kira says stubbornly. “We all are.”

“If we do that, we can go back ten years,” Lydia says quietly. And that – that’s what they need. That will take them to before Malia shifted, before Gerard or Deucalion, before Paige died, before Derek’s eyes turned blue and the Nemeton granted life to Jennifer Blake. “The only caveat is that Kira and has to stay on this end. Malia, too, to anchor that much power.”

He puts the papers down and looks at them. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks.

“Yes,” they say instantly, and not a single heartbeat stutters.

“Okay,” he says. “Let’s get started.”

 

“There’s something you’re not telling me about the spell,” Scott says, tapping his pen against the edge of his notebook. “You’re a great liar, and you’re great at rewording your truths, but I know you, Lydia. You’re hiding something from me.”

She sighs and sinks down into the grass next to him. “It’s – you know how Stiles and I cast our spells together, right? Neither of us are druids, and we don’t have enough training, so if we combine our powers it stands a better chance of canceling out our shortcomings.”

“You need to be on the same side of the spell for this to work,” Scott says. “If you go back, Stiles won’t be able to hold the spell and it’ll fail.”

“It _might_ fail,” Lydia says. “We’ve cast spells individually plenty of times. It’s just never been of this magnitude, so there’s a chance that it might fall apart if we’re separated. It’s not a big chance, but…”

“But a chance is still a chance,” Scott says. “So it has to be me who goes back.”

“Stiles could go back,” Lydia says reluctantly. “I can hold the spell on my own, especially with Malia as the anchor. And he’s tapped into his belief before, so combined with his life force it would be enough to seal the spell on the his end.”

“And he’ll die painfully and wake up remembering everything when no one else does,” Scott says. “He’s not going back.”

“That could still happen to you,” Lydia says. “There’s a reason I want Malia to anchor the spell, because as far back as we’re going, there’s no chance she’d survive the return trip. Your werewolf power – whatever’s left of it – might not be enough to seal the spell, either. You might die, too.”

“I _might_ ,” Scott says. “But Stiles _will_.” He flips through the pages of his notebook before sliding it across the ground to her. “No one else in the entire world is going to remember what happened. I can’t ask you or Stiles to remember what you went through when there’s no one else to help you.”

“You went through a lot too, Scott,” Lydia says.

“Not as bad as you,” Scott says. He doesn’t look up, just keeps shredding blades of grass. “I finished writing everything down. The rest of you should check it over and make sure I didn’t miss anything.”

Lydia picks up the notebook and fiddles with the pages. “This is just a record, just for the sake of archiving,” she says. “You can’t give this to Derek, you know. You can’t tell any of this to Derek. You can’t give him any specifics, that’ll just send him down a rabbit hole of paranoia and that’s no way to live.”

“I know,” Scott says.

“But you have to tell him something that will keep his family alive.”

“I know.”

She chews on her lip. “I know what to do for the spell, and I know it will work. But I don’t actually know what you can do when you get there.”

He only has one night to change everything. From moonrise to moonset, and then the spell will pull him back through time and burn away every last shred of him to seal the timeline shut. “I know.”

“Even if it works, even if everything changes, you still might be haunted by all of this. You’ll remember all of the pain.” She leans forward and curls her hand over his. “Are you sure it’s worth it?”

He looks up to meet her gaze. “If you were the one going back, would it be worth it?”

“Absolutely,” Lydia says immediately.

“Then you know my answer. We’ll do it on the next full moon.”

“The Wolf Moon,” Lydia says with a nod, then, “Scott, that’s your birthday.”

“It’s my birthday, I’ll travel back in time if I want to,” he quips. He adds, more seriously, “It’s fitting, Lydia. The first moon of the new year. New past, new future. We’ll do it then.”

“Okay,” she says, nodding. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is.” He stands and helps Lydia to her feet, and they walk carefully through the grass. He stops, turns, and lays his pen in the grass underneath the headstone.

She’d always forgotten hers.

 

_I don’t want to go._

_I don’t want to leave you._

 

Scott spends his last day with Derek, mapping every inch of his body with his lips and memorizing the feel of him under his hands. He presses kisses everywhere he can, hoping Derek can understand the words that stay trapped in his throat _. I love you. I’m sorry. I don’t want to leave you. I love you._ Derek holds him tight enough to crush him, fingers digging bruises into his skin. Scott wishes that they’d stay, just this once.

He finally stands to leave when the sun starts to sink behind the horizon. Derek reaches forward and grabs his hand. “I love you, Scott,” he bursts, as if the words had been torn out of him.

Scott stares back at him and blinks back the tears that burn his eyes. “Derek…”

“I couldn’t let you leave without telling you,” Derek says. “I…” He cradles Scott’s hand between his and presses a kiss to his knuckles. “No matter what happens, I’ll always love you.”

His feet move of their own volition, tripping over themselves to fall into Derek’s arms and cling to him. “I’ll come back,” he promises. “I will, Derek. I’m coming back.”

Derek swallows thickly and nods against Scott’s neck. “I know you will,” he says. “I’ll be waiting for you.” He squeezes Scott tightly, then lets go and steps back. “You have to go now,” he says, carefully prying Scott’s hands away from his body. “It’s okay, Scott. Go.”

Scott turns away and walks to the door. He shuts it behind him and doesn’t look back, just runs down the stairs and away from the building until he’s standing in the back room of Deaton’s clinic. Stiles looks at him with red-rimmed eyes and immediately crushes him in a hug. They don’t say a word.

His lungs tighten when he steps into the circle on the floor, and he feels for the notebook tucked in his jacket and the smaller one hidden away in his pocket. There’s no going back after this. No matter what happens, they’re all going to change. They won’t be friends anymore. But it’ll be worth it, if Allison, the Hales, Boyd and Erica, even Aiden…

Kira pulls them all into one last hug. “I’m really glad I met you guys,” she says. “I’m so glad that I got to be your friend.”

“We’ll find you again,” Lydia says, lips trembling and abandoning any sense of practicality. “You’ll find your way back here, and we’ll find you again. And we’ll find you again, Malia, I promise.”

“We’ll all find each other again,” Stiles says. They clutch each other, shaky breaths echoing through the silent room, and then they step back from the circle. Scott looks at them all one last time. Stiles reaches out and grabs his hand. “You’ll always have me,” he says.

He nods. “I’m ready.”

He feels the moment it begins, reaching deep inside him and drawing on his power as Lydia chants. Stiles’ lips move wordlessly along with her as Malia’s and then Kira’s eyes glow. Banshee, coyote, kitsune, and belief pour their hearts into the spell. He lets the red bleed into his eyes, filling up his vision and rushing through his ears until he’s blind, deaf, senseless, weightless, fading away…

His lungs burn, and the ground is solid beneath his feet. He breathes in slowly, feels his clothes against his skin and the barest of breezes against his hands. The scent of dogs and cats and birds fill his nostrils, and he hears footsteps approaching outside. He opens his eyes. He doesn’t have to look into a mirror to know that they’ll never glow red again.

The circle is gone. The gauze is missing from the corner shelf where he always stacked them, and the pens on the desk are blue instead of black. Extra bags of dog food line the hallway. That’s a fire hazard. The sun dips into the horizon and bathes the room in a warm glow. The full moon is about to rise; when it sets, Scott will go back to whatever future he’s written. He can do this. He _has_ to.

Scott turns around as Deaton opens the door. His face is less lined and his beard is darker, and Scott doesn’t see shadows of guilt and ghosts hanging behind him. “Hi, Dr. Deaton,” he says. “I’m Scott McCall.”

Deaton doesn’t look the least bit surprised. Of course he doesn’t. “I see.”

He reaches into his jacket and holds out a letter that Deaton himself had written, ten years from now. “I need to see Derek Hale.”


	2. 2003

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot spoilers for Top Gun (1986) and The Terminator (1984).

Derek blinks his eyes open with a yawn. The sun pours over the horizon and through the window, and he scrunches his eyes against spots that swim into his vision. He sits up, squints around the empty room, and wanders into the reception. Deaton looks up from fixing the bulletin board. “Good morning, Derek!” he says cheerfully. “You fell asleep after helping me out last night. Let’s get you home for some breakfast.”

“What happened last night?” Derek asks. He remembers a boy – no, a _man_. He’d looked young but he certainly wasn’t a child.

“You helped me with some old records,” Deaton says. “I needed to get them ready for a old friend passing through.” He claps him on the back. “Come on, your mother wants you home.”

He yawns his way so much through breakfast that Cora gets him planted on the sofa with a DVD already loading on the TV before he remembers that it was supposed to be his turn to pick a movie. “Hey!”

“Back To The Future’s a classic, deal with it,” Cora sniffs, pressing play and sitting on top of the remote. He settles down with a huff. He _does_ like the trilogy, but he doesn’t like agreeing with Cora. She’s supposed to listen to him while Laura’s at college, but that never really ended up happening.

“Great Scott!” Cora yells along with Doc on the screen.

Derek shoots upright. “Scott.”

Cora glances at him. “Huh?” He doesn’t answer, just dashes upstairs and slams the door to his room before digging out an empty notebook. “Scott,” he mumbles as he frantically scribbles down the snatches of conversation that he remembers. It’s all slipping through his fingers. His face is already fading from Derek’s mind. He gives up and throws the notebook across the room.

“You okay?” Cora asks when he comes back down. “What’s with the notebook?”

“Forgot I had homework,” he mutters, jamming the pen through the spirals.

She makes a face. “They gave you homework on a three day weekend? High school’s gross. Here, I made popcorn.”

The kitchen smells very, very burnt, as it always does when Cora’s been there. There’s probably an entire bowl of blackened kernels sitting on the counter. “Thanks,” he says, taking a handful from the bowl that Cora holds out.

She smiles and unpauses the movie. Derek watches Doc get shot and Marty and the DeLorean disappear back in time, and he wonders if something similar had happened to Scott.

When he wakes up the next day, he remembers more. He remembers everything, actually, but it all feels weirdly detached. It plays in his mind like a movie, like a surreal dream, like…like _Labyrinth_ , maybe, when Sarah danced with Jareth the Goblin King. But Scott wasn’t – isn’t – won’t be? – evil, and Derek’s no plucky hero trying to save his family. He’s no Sarah Williams, and he’s no Sarah Connor.

He writes it all down and stashes the notebook in the small safe that Uncle Peter gave him, and after some deliberation with a number pad, sets the combination. 7-2-6-8-8. S-C-O-T-T.

“Great Scott,” he mutters to himself, and buries it in the back of his closet. Out of sight, out of mind.

 

When he wakes up on Tuesday for school, he can barely even remember Scott’s face.

 

Basketball practice runs later than usual because of the long weekend, so the hallways are already dark and empty when they leave the gym. Music from some sort of stringed instrument pours from the closed doors of the music room, which is new. He hadn’t realized that students practiced this late after school. Derek steals the ball from Kenny to bounce it off the walls and show off some new footwork he’s been working on – he’s determined to make MVP, just like Uncle Peter – when the door to the music room slams open. He’s about to apologize for making noise when he turns around and sees the prettiest girl in the world.

Her pale skin looks soft as cream, and her hair smells like those purple flowers in Aunt Dahlia’s garden, and he could drown in those tawny-chocolate eyes…which are currently glaring at him from beneath beautifully sculpted brows like he’s a fly she can’t quite manage to swat. Derek feels his mouth drop open and his brain shut off, and when he comes back to himself, she’s already stomping back into the music room and slamming the door shut. He has no memory of what just happened, but he’s pretty sure he just made a complete ass of himself.

“Whatever, man, she doesn’t know how to take a joke,” Cameron says, plucking the ball out of his hands and spinning it on his finger. “Let’s get out of here, I’m starving.”

Derek follows them slowly, glancing back at the music room. “Did I do too much?” he asks.

“Nah,” Jake says.

“It got kinda douchey at the end,” Kenny says. “Just barely, though.” He has his Diplomatic Co-Captain face on, though, so that means it was actually ten times worse than he’s saying.

“Crap,” he mutters.

Sasha pats him on the back. “I mean, she’s still back there and they’re not allowed to lock the doors,” he says. “You could try to apologize to her, if you want.”

He hesitates, glancing back at the music room. “Just go, Hale,” Kenny says, shoving him forward. “We’ll catch up with you later.”

He ends up making even more of an ass of himself and somehow winds up playing the _triangle_ , but she tells him her name and smells more amused than annoyed with him by the time he finally leaves. He’s going to count it as a win.

**dereleek signed on at 7:26 pm.**

**wuuhuu:** soooooo

 **dereleek:** page

 **wuuhuu:** page what?

 **dmitriyevich:** if you mean our english homework its just act 1 of romeo n juliet

 **dereleek:** no, PAIGE

 **dereleek:** her name is paige

 **wuuhuu:** oh boy

 **wuuhuu:** here we go

 **dmitriyevich:** were very happy for you derek

 **dmitriyevich:** be supportive kenny

 **dereleek:** thanks sasha

 **wuuhuu:** i AM being supportive

 **wuuhuu:** im preemptively sketching out all the ways dereks gonna jam his foot in his mouth around paige

 **wuuhuu:** so we can employ EVASIVE MANEUEVERS

 **dereleek:** aw come on i’m not that bad

 **dereleek:** guys?

 **dereleek:** COME ON I’M NOT THAT BAD

 **dmitriyevich:** …you kind of are

 **wuuhuu:** thats ok thats y were here!

 **wuuhuu:** well be the gooses to ur maverick

 **dmitriyevich:** can i be iceman instead

 **dmitriyevich:** i dont wanna die during a training exercise

 **wuuhuu:** gtg my dad wants 2 use the phone

 **wuuhuu:** l8r

 **dmitriyevich:** later

 **dereleek:** later

**wuuhuu signed off at 7:49 pm.**

**dmitriyevich:** i should go too, gotta read romeo n juliet

 **dereleek:** simple enough they both die right?

 **dmitriyevich:** well not in act 1

 **dmitriyevich:** you should probably get reading too

 **dereleek:** yeah yeah

 **dmitriyevich:** less scribbling mrs paige hale in your journal

 **dmitriyevich:** more reading about soon-to-be-dead teenagers

 **dereleek:** I WAS NOT

 **dmitriyevich:** dude ive known you too long

 **dmitriyevich:** you cant lie to me

 **dmitriyevich:** later

 **dereleek:** later

**dmitriyevich signed off at 7:55 pm.**

**dereleek signed off at 7:55 pm.**

_“This is really important, okay,” Scott says. Derek nods eagerly. “Don’t try to be someone you’re not for someone else.”_

_That’s it? “That’s it?”_

_“Seriously, Derek,” Scott says. “Take it from one werewolf to another, this matters when it comes to trusting people. If they really care about you, they’ll love you for who you are.” He looks down. “And lying just hurts everyone, even if you think you’re doing it for good reasons.”_

_“You sound like you know that from experience,” Derek says._

_“Well,” Scott says, “That’s because I do.”_

_“Did they hurt you, or did you hurt them?” Derek asks._

_“Both.”_

He lengthens his fangs and his claws and his ears and opens his glowing yellow eyes and braces for her scream. Instead, Paige giggles and claps her hands. “I knew it!” she crows. “I knew there was something special about you!” She immediately seizes his nearest hand to inspect his claws.

“You’re not scared?” he asks, and curses himself for lisping around his fangs. He’d been working on that with Uncle Peter.

“I know you’d never hurt me,” Paige says confidently, moving on to his ears. “You know, I think your ears just might stick out _less_ like this.” Derek gapes in betrayal, features morphing back to human, and Paige smirks at him before darting away through the grass.

He catches up with her easily and tackles her to the ground, twisting so that she lands on him instead. “No fair,” she pouts. He smirks and wiggles his fingers into her sides while she shrieks with laughter and tries to squirm away.

She’s amazing. She’s smart, and funny, and she isn’t afraid to hold his hand when they study in the library or when he’s having trouble keeping his wolf under control. Even when he accidentally pops his fangs, she’s willing to kiss him or carry right on with their argument. She never looks at him with fear for what he is. She’s so strong.

Laura hacks Derek’s computer account and changes his settings for three months straight because all his passwords are iterations of Paige’s name. “It’s not my fault you’re so predictable,” she scoffs.

 

Paige is a genius with her cello. Derek can listen to her practice for hours, just laying on the floor and letting her beautiful music wash over him. She tries to teach him piano; it doesn’t go well. “You’re a werewolf!” she squawks. “You play basketball! How do you have no sense of rhythm?”

“Werewolves aren’t known for their sense of rhythm,” he grumbles, glaring down at his traitorous hands. He can pick out the bare bones of a melody with one, but whenever he tries to sync them up, it all falls apart.

Paige leans down and kisses his cheek. “It’s okay. You’re still my favorite triangle player.”

Cora learns how to play the harp just to spite Derek. Both Derek and Laura find it disturbing to watch her play. “It’s just unnatural,” Laura whispers during one of her recitals. It’s the first time Derek has scene Cora in a skirt in years, and the first time he’s seen her in pastels _ever_. With her eyes closed to feel the music, she looks so gentle and…sweet.

She trips on her way off the stage. There’s the Cora they know.

 

Jake and Cameron say that Paige made him boring. Kenny and Sasha say that Paige just made him grow up. Derek loses some friends and gains some new ones, like Brooke from the library and Paige’s friend Almir from orchestra. (Almir tries to teach him the play the saxophone. It goes even worse than the piano lessons. Derek somehow snaps a reed with his tongue. Almir is astonished.)

It’s not Paige. Well, it’s not _all_ Paige like his basketball friends say. It’s a mixture of getting older, taking on more family responsibilities, and Paige. And PSATs. Those really take the wind out of your sails and make you trepidatious about your future.

History turns out to be Derek’s best subject, and Mr. Westover delights in mentoring him – probably because no one else in the entire school likes history. Derek’s just weird like that. Sasha supports him in his history nerdity, though, in no small part because Sasha sucks at history and needs his help. Still, Sasha and Kenny are good friends. They’ve always been good friends, ever since they all collided on the monkey bars nearly a decade ago.

Laura gets a job at the car shop and moves all of her stuff out of the house, which is apparently their mother’s cue to toss Derek into the deep end of werewolf politics. He doesn’t have to sit in on as many alpha meetings as Laura does, but he’s put in charge of organizing Uncle Peter’s dusty old library while Uncle Peter traverses the world or whatever. Some of the books are moldy and crumbling, and a good chunk of them go into a pile of “I Don’t Think This Language Even Exists Anymore,” but they’re really interesting. Paige nods at them appreciatively, but she doesn’t love books the way Derek does. It’s okay. Derek doesn’t love music the way she does. They’re allowed to love different things.

 

Deaton disappears for a week while their mother deals with alpha business, and he doesn’t answer any of Derek or Cora’s questions when he gets back. Derek doesn’t expect him to – he never does, and his expressions just get more and more judgmental the longer they bother him – but it’s always fun to badger Deaton. Besides, things are boring while Mom and Aunt Dahlia and Laura are off taking care of werewolf business or whatever.

He smells vaguely of coyote and has long-healed scratches on his arms, and Derek doesn’t really know what to make of that.

 

Laura comes home late one night white-faced and shaking. Derek finds her in the bathtub, fully dressed, staring blindly at the wall while water pours down her body. He peels off her wet clothes and washes the mud off her hands. When he turns the water off, Cora appears behind him with a fluffy towel.

“He killed them all,” she whispers when they’re huddled under the blankets in Cora’s bed with mugs of hot chocolate. “They were his pack, and he killed them all for – for _power?_ ” Her face twists in confusion. “He was already their alpha. What more power could he need?” Derek holds her hot chocolate while Cora rubs soothing circles on her back. “Mom – she – she had to. He had become… _wrong_ , like a…a…”

“An abomination,” Derek says.

Laura looks at him with haunted eyes and crumples against his chest. “He killed them all. How could he do that to his family?”

 

_Scott looks so tragically sad, like a hero in a fairytale, that Derek hears himself blurt, “So, did she die or something?”_

_Even he can quietly wince at how crass he sounds – what if there really_ was _a girl who died – but Scott’s eyebrows shoot up and he scoffs at Derek in disbelief. “Why do you assume someone died?” he asks. “And why are they female?”_

_“Hey, I wasn’t the one being a tragic hero out of a fairy tale,” Derek says. “You were freaking brooding, man. They’re always brooding about a dead girl in those stories.”_

_“Well, I’m not from a fairy tale,” Scott says. “And I’m no hero.”_

_“That’s exactly what a hero from a fairy tale would say. Or, like, the new X-Men movies with all that dumb leather.”_

_“No way.” Scott turns closer to him. “Which one are they on now?”_

_“Just the one,” Derek says. “Is the sequel gonna be any good?”_

_“I’m not telling you.”_

_“Damn. You really_ aren’t _a hero.”_

_Scott laughs and shoves him lightly. Derek pushes him back as hard as he can and sends him sliding into the exam table._

 

Like the traitor girlfriend she is, Paige suggests taking Derek and Cora to the carnival in town as a way to practice keeping their wolves in check. Mom thinks it’s a wonderful idea, of course, and Laura volunteers to drive them there. Derek spends the car ride plotting his revenge. He’ll have Cora on his side. Their vengeance shall be swift and brutal.

“See you at sundown!” Laura calls cheerfully. She drives off in the stupidly flashy Camaro that Uncle Peter had dropped off before disappearing to Bangladesh or wherever he is now. He’s been spending less and less time at home, ever since Derek refused to let him turn Paige and caught him arguing with Ennis before the other alphas left town. He’d been Derek’s closest friend, once; he wonders if that’s something that Paige changed, too.

That’s not fair. Paige didn’t make him skip town. Uncle Peter is a fully-grown adult, and his actions do not depend on those of a couple of teenagers. He left, and sometimes friends and family go through growing pains, and there’s nothing wrong with that. There is, however, everything wrong with the rickety old carnival that he’s currently stuck at.

“We’re stranded here for five hours,” Cora says gloomily. “It reeks of sweat and garbage and nasty hot dogs.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun!” Paige says. “It’s a carnival! There will be rides and games and greasy food, and they’re gonna set off fireworks at the end of the night!” Cora scowls harder. “Come on, Cora. You’re not _actually_ from the Addams family, no matter how much you try.”

“I don’t like cotton candy,” Cora says.

“Great, I’ve always preferred churros. Now are we going to go on some rides, or are you big scary wolves too chicken?”

Derek’s pretty sick of the roller coasters after the third round, but Paige and Cora are already sprinting back to the line, so he waves them off and heads for the game booths. Laura had demanded that they bring her back three ugly stuffed animals each, so he might as well get it over with now so he can make fun of Cora’s failed attempts at failing later. He wins a purple hedgehog easily at the basketball booth, and misses just enough ring tosses to win the rainbow-colored salamander instead of the giant clownfish. He wanders the rest of the booths, looking for the ugliest possible plushie, and then his eyes alight on a cross-eyed spotted cat with green blotches and wonky fangs.

He slaps down his money next to a small dark-haired girl with a determined gleam in her eyes. “You think you can take me?” she asks. Her voice is adorably high pitched and she has a Band-Aid across one cheek. “I should warn you, I’m good.”

Derek picks up his rifle. “We’ll see.”

She shoots all five ducks and sets her gun down to watch him miss his last two. “Bad luck,” she chirps.

Derek’s fine with pulling his punches to keep his head down, but he’s not going to get his ass beat by ten-year-old. He slaps another bill on the counter. “Best two out of three?”

Five games later, a small crowd has gathered around the booth to watch Derek admit defeat and the girl shoot all twenty ducks without a single miss in a victory lap. “That’s a new record!” the booth attendant cheers. “Let’s have a round of applause for…what’s your name, little lady?”

“Allison,” the girl says proudly. “Allison Argent.”

“Let’s hear it for Allison Argent!” She stands up on the counter to bow while the crowd cheers, and the attendant pulls down the big animals that she chooses.

Argent. That’s interesting. He remembers that name from Laura’s story about Deucalion. Derek holds out his hand to shake. “You are very talented,” he says. “Derek Hale.”

She shakes his hand solemnly. “You’re not so bad yourself, Derek,” she says. “You were a worthy competitor.”

He glances at the small pile of stuffed animals next to her, and scans the now-dispersed crowd for anyone looking for a small child with scarily good aim. “Is there anyone around to help you with these?”

“My aunt’s here somewhere,” Allison says with a shrug as she hops down from the counter. “Probably making out with her boyfriend. She just brought me along as an excuse to go on a date.”

“And she left you here by yourself?” Derek asks. He’d at least left Cora with Paige, and Cora’s a werewolf to boot. Allison barely comes up to his ribcage and is currently drowning under a pile of stuffed animals. He can’t see how anyone would leave her to fend for herself, Argent or no.

“I can take care of myself,” Allison says stubbornly while she struggles to carry all her prizes. Derek grabs an ugly blotchy cat and pink husky before they fall to the ground.

“Sure, but she shouldn’t have just left you like that,” Derek says. He never would have ditched Cora for a date like that. Then again, he wouldn’t have taken Cora along in the first place. Cora’s a holy terror.

“They just want to hold hands and _kiss_ ,” Allison says, making a face. “I ditched them so I could go on the rides. She gave me plenty of money for games and funnel cakes, I don’t see a downside here.”

Derek can definitely see the downside of a little girl getting kidnapped, but – “What’s a funnel cake?”

Her mouth drops open, and a beady-eyed lobster drops to the floor. Derek quickly snatches it up and brushes off the dirt. “You’ve never had a funnel cake?”

It sounds vaguely disturbing. “No?”

She seizes his hand and drags him to the food stalls. “You gotta have a funnel cake, Derek! Come on, my treat!”

Derek begins to understand the merit in getting Cora used to public situations when she greets Allison by glaring at her and demanding, “Who the hell are you?”

Allison wipes her mouth on the back of her hand and holds it out to Cora to shake. “Hi! I’m Allison!” she says, apparently undeterred by Cora’s death glare. Cora eyes the chocolate sauce smeared on her hand and raises an eyebrow.

Paige nudges Cora, then shakes Allison’s hand when Cora doesn’t budge. “Nice to meet you, Allison,” she says. “I’m Paige, Derek’s girlfriend, and this is his sister, Cora.”

Allison holds up their half-eaten funnel cake. Derek has to admit, it’s pretty good. “Would you like some funnel cake? I hope you like strawberries.”

“What’s a funnel cake?” Cora asks.

Allison looks despairingly at Paige. “Please tell me _you’ve_ heard of funnel cake before.”

Paige picks Cora up and drops her onto the bench next to Allison. “Oh yeah, they’re bomb.”

Predictably, Cora hates the fireworks. Derek isn’t fond of how loud they are, but he lets Allison climb onto his shoulders so she can get a better view. Some of the designs are pretty cool. “You’re pretty cool, Derek,” Allison says while they head towards the entrance. Cora snorts in disbelief. “You should give me your email address so we can be penpals.”

“Uh,” Derek says.

“Derek’s not very good at emails,” Cora says. “He’s bad with technology.”

“Shut up, Cora,” Derek says. Paige hides a snort of laughter in one of their many stuffed animals.

“But anyway,” Cora continues blithely, “It’s dereleek at msn dot com.”

Allison scrunches her face. “How do you spell that?”

Cora pulls a pen out of Paige’s purse and scribbles it on the back of her ticket. “Here.”

Allison’s face lights up, and she carefully stows it in her jean pocket. “Thanks! I’m gonna email you and tell you about all the cool places my family goes.”

“You don’t live here?” Derek asks.

“Nah.” Allison yawns. “We move around a lot. Just came here for the weekend because my dad had to do ‘business stuff.’” She holds her fingers up for air quotes. “You’ll write me back, right, Derek?”

“Sure,” Derek says.

“Because all my other penpals say they will, but they stop writing me back after a while,” Allison says. “It’s not easy when you never see your friends.”

Derek feels a pang of guilt. How lonely must she be, to randomly make friends with anyone who stands still long enough to play with her? “I’ll always write you back, Allison,” he promises. “Don’t forget to keep an eye out for your aunt’s car.”

She props her chin onto Derek’s head. “Um, it’s…that one! There! Pulling up in front of that fancy car!”

“Are you sure?” Paige asks.

A guy about Derek’s age climbs out of the Kia Soul and opens the back door, calling Allison’s name. He looks vaguely familiar; Derek wonders if he goes to BHHS. “Yeah, that’s Bennett!” Allison says. Derek helps her climb down from his shoulders and hands over her stuffed animals, but she pushes the extra-ugly splotchy cat back at him. “You keep the jaguar,” she says. “So you don’t forget about me.” Paige makes a tiny noise in the back of her throat that Derek hopes Allison can’t hear.

“Okay,” Derek says, and hands her a small stuffed wolf with crooked fangs. “Then you keep the wolf so you don’t forget about me.”

Allison hugs him as best as she can with several large plushies in her arms, then runs to the car. “Bye, guys!” she calls. “It was nice meeting you!”

Cora climbs into the back of the Camaro while the other car drives away. “Who was that?” Laura asks.

“Allison Argent,” Derek says.

Laura spins around in the driver’s seat. “Did you say _Argent?_ ”

“They’re leaving tomorrow,” he says. “And whatever they were here for, she didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“Of course not, she’s, like, five years old.”

“I’d say closer to nine or ten, actually,” Paige says unhelpfully.

Laura starts the car. “But that doesn’t mean they’re not grooming her for it anyway,” she continues.

“She’s just a kid,” Derek protests. “She just wanted someone to hang out with for the day.”

“And a penpal,” Cora adds.

“A penpal,” Laura repeats flatly.

“She just wants a friend, Laura,” Paige says. “She was like Hermione during her first year at Hogwarts, I thought I was gonna cry.”

“Besides, I gave her that dumb email he never uses anyway,” Cora adds sleepily.

“I never use it because you spelled ‘derelict’ wrong and thought it was funnier that way,” Derek says.

“It _is_ funnier that way. Kenny agrees with me.”

“You’re going to talk to Mom about this,” Laura tells Derek.

“Yeah, obviously,” Derek says with a sigh. ~~~~

“She’s an Argent,” Laura tells their mother. “She’s _Gerard Argent’s_ granddaughter. She’s going to lead them one day, and she’s going to be just like him.”

“We don’t know that,” Derek protests. “She’s just a kid. For god’s sake, Laura, she’s only ten years old.”

“They start training them young! You said yourself, she’s already a total crack shot. That’s a finely honed skill at ten years old. You think they’re not already teaching her their dogma?”

“So, what, you’re going to condemn a child?” Derek asks. “I was with her the entire day. She’s a bad liar, because she’s _ten years old_. All she knows is that her family moves around a lot, so much that she’s already had to repeat a year of school, and she just wants a friend who lasts longer than a couple of months.”

“And you think you can be that friend,” Laura says flatly. “You’re way older than her and a werewolf, and you think you can be a child hunter’s friend.”

“I think I can at least _try_ ,” Derek says. “She’s just a kid, and she’s so lonely.”

“That’s what they do, Derek. That’s what hunter families do. They keep them isolated and away from any outside mentalities until they’ve drunk too much of the fruit punch to change their ways, and then they unleash them on the world. Derek,” Her hand clenches into a fist. “You didn’t see Deucalion. You didn’t see how ruthless the Argents are.”

He leans back. “Are you calling Deucalion a victim?” he demands. “The alpha who slaughtered his own pack? You really think Gerard Argent forced him to do that?”

“Severe trauma and grief changes people,” Mom says, reaching forward and gently pushing the siblings back into their seats. “And the way we react to those changes is an indication of our true nature. Deucalion made his choices, and I made mine. As alphas, we know that our choices affect more than ourselves. We have a responsibility.” She turns to Laura. “Laura, you will have that responsibility as well. Being a leader is not about power; it’s about protection. Protection of others, not of yourself. Deucalion lost sight of that, and he needed to be stopped.”

Laura gnaws on her lip. “But Gerard’s still out there, and he got away with all of it. He killed for power, the same way Deucalion did.”

“If what Deucalion said was true, yes,” Mom says. “He believed in himself so firmly that I don’t know what was the truth. That doesn’t mean we should trust the Argents,” she adds when Laura shoots to her feet, “But that doesn’t mean we should trust Deucalion’s last words, either. Allison Argent is a child, and influences outside of her family can only benefit her, the same way they would benefit any other child. Derek, you may not tell her anything about werewolves, or hunters, or anything from that part of our lives, but you may correspond with her for as long as you want.” She stands. “Now, Cora’s been listening in for the past twenty minutes, so I think it’s time for dinner.”

“I have not!” Cora whines from upstairs and down the hall. Derek and Laura smirk at each other. “…Crap.”

 

_“You know,” Scott says. “One of the first things you told me when we met was that the bite is a gift.”_

_“It is,” Derek says firmly. That’s what Uncle Peter’s always told him._

_Scott nods. “And what does that mean to you?”_

_“That it’s a gift to be a werewolf,” Derek says, remembering what Uncle Peter told him. “It’s a privilege. I should never feel bad for being who I am. I’m one of the lucky ones.”_

_“And what about people who aren’t werewolves?”_

_“Well,” Derek thinks for a moment. “If they want to be werewolves, then they should be allowed to. Because it’s a gift to be like us, it’s a good thing.”_

_“That first part you said, that’s important,” Scott says. “Never forget that first part, okay?”_

_“What, if they want to be?” Derek repeats. “Why_ wouldn’t _you want to be a werewolf?”_

_“Plenty of reasons,” Scott says with a shrug. “That doesn’t matter, though. What matters is if they want it or not. Because a gift is a two-way street, you know.”_

_“Yeah, sometimes the body rejects the bite,” Derek says._

_“And sometimes the person does, too,” Scott says. “You can’t force someone to accept a gift. That doesn’t make it a gift anymore. That makes it a…an intrusion.”_

_“A coercion,” Derek says. “Manipulation. Taking away someone’s choice.”_

_“Yeah,” Scott says. “Don’t manipulate people, Derek. And don’t let people manipulate you. And choices…they should be ours to make, not someone else’s.”_

_He fiddles with the hem of his shirt. “Did that happen to someone you know?” he asks. “Someone gave them the bite without giving them a choice?”_

_“Yeah,” he says. “It happened to someone I know.”_

_Know, not knew. Present tense. He hasn’t been referring to much of anyone or anything in present tense. “Did-” he begins, then stops. Scott’s jaw is so clenched Derek thinks it might crack, and he can see the yellow starting to bleed into his eyes. That’s probably his answer, right there. “Did anyone die in the fifth Harry Potter book?” he asks instead._

_Scott’s startled into laughter. “Dude,” he says. “I’m not telling you.”_

_“It’s one of the Weasleys, isn’t it. Is it Percy?”_

_“I’m not telling you, Derek.”_

 

Derek comes home from basketball practice and finds Ennis and Kali’s emissary – what was her name, he’d forgotten her name – sitting in the kitchen with steaming mugs of tea. “Um, hello,” he says, fidgeting awkwardly with his gym bag.

The emissary smiles at him. She’s really pretty. “Hello, Derek,” she says. “Laura let us in. We’re just here to speak with your mother.”

He shifts from foot to foot. “What about?”

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Laura says firmly, coming in through the kitchen door.

“Actually, I think it’d be good for you to stay for this, Derek,” Mom says. She sits down with her own cup of tea while Laura sets out a plate of cookies. “If you’d like.”

“Yeah!” Derek says eagerly.

“Wash up first,” Mom says. “And put your things away. We’ll wait.”

He dashes upstairs, throws his gym bag into his closet, and cleans himself as quickly as possible before leaping down the stairs and running back into the kitchen. Mom and Ennis share an amused chuckle while Laura throws him a despairing look. He flattens his hair self-consciously and drops into the last seat, noticing the glass of milk and small plate of cookies that Laura undoubtedly set out for him.

“We found a rogue pack,” Ennis says. “Near Oregon. Kali’s tracking them, otherwise she would have come with us. Julia is here in her place.”

Mom sips her tea. “And you have come to me for…”

“Advice,” Julia says. “We trusted your guidance with Deucalion, and we trust your guidance now.”

“It’s only a matter of time before hunters catch up to them,” Ennis says. “They’re brutal, the betas kill indiscriminately and the alpha bites others for sport. But their omegas are weak and innocent.”

“You want to cull the pack and take the omegas for your own,” Laura says.

Julia stares her down. “We want to give them the choice that hunters would not.”

“If you take in the omegas, they are your responsibility,” Mom says.

“Kali took in a young coyote and her family several months ago,” Julia says. “They’re adjusting well. We’re more than capable of handling any of these omegas.”

Mom turns to Ennis. “And if they hurt the innocent?”

“I will punish them as fits their crime,” he promises. “If a hunter interferes…” His hand clenches, and Julia soothes his arm. “If they honor their Code, I will not retaliate.”

“Good.” Mom nods. “Not that you need my approval, but your plan is sound. Derek, if you could go make up the guest room-”

“Actually, we’ll be leaving soon,” Julia says. “We want to get back as soon as possible.”

“Of course,” Mom says.

Laura stands. “I’ll get you some food for the road. Any dietary preferences?”

“Julia knows,” Ennis says. “Talia, may I speak with Derek for a moment?”

Derek follows Ennis warily into the den. He barely knows anything about the alpha except that he’d carved the spiral into that steel mill out of grief all those years ago. Paige thinks there’s a sad sort of beauty to the spiral; Derek thinks it’s terrifying. Something about being around other alphas sets him on edge.

“Is your uncle around?” Ennis asks him. Derek shakes his head; last he’d heard of Uncle Peter, he was wandering through Brazil. Laura thinks he’s working through a mid-life crisis; Derek wonders if he’s still mad at him. “Good. You know, last time I was here, he asked me to bite your girlfriend.”

Derek’s claws pop instantly. “What?” he asks around a mouthful of fang. He struggles to calm his heart rate and pull them back in.

“He said you wanted it for her, but you were too afraid to ask,” Ennis says. “I hope you didn’t-”

“No!” Derek says quickly. “No, I – no. I wouldn’t. The bite is a gift. It can’t be forced.”

“Good,” Ennis says, nodding to himself. “Good, good.” He looks at Derek, and Derek tries not to squirm under his gaze. “I’m going to be honest, Derek. I don’t trust your Uncle Peter. You know him better than I do, of course, but as an alpha…” He shakes his head. “Just a bad feeling. I’d be careful around him, if I were you.”

Derek nods. “Thank you for telling me.”

“The way I see it, I owe it to you,” Ennis says. “I might have agreed to Peter’s plan if I hadn’t seen how happy you two were together. Fangs and all.” He chuckles at Derek’s wide eyes and uptick in heartbeat. “Yeah. You’re not too good at subtlety, kid,” he says. “Better work on that if you’re going to run with alphas.”

“Like I could ever pull something over my sister,” Derek mutters. “She’s the worst.”

“She’ll be a good alpha,” Ennis says. “And you may not want to be in her pack when you grow up. Might want your own.”

Derek frowns. “I’m no alpha.”

“No, but you may find one of your own one day.” Ennis and Julia say their goodbyes to his mother before sweeping out the door and driving away. Derek goes upstairs to empty out his gym bag and mulls over Ennis’ words.

Find an alpha of his own one day? That’s crazy. Why wouldn’t he want to be in his sister’s pack? Family is everything. Laura’s bossy and can be a smartass at times, but she’s his big sister. He loves her. He’d never leave her pack. Besides, he still feels uncomfortable around any alpha that isn’t his mother. It just doesn’t feel right.

 

Paige breaks up with Derek towards the end of their junior year. It sucks, it sucks a _lot_ , but he can admit that it wasn’t completely unexpected. He’d fallen for her hard and fast, and after the honeymoon phase wore off, they were always at their best when they were less like a couple and more like a couple of friends. She spends spring break with her family in Germany, which is probably for the best. Kenny is a great friend and listens to Derek whine and drags him down to the public pool. Derek spends the first day whining at the pool, then spends the next two days trying to catch the attention of the hot new lifeguard.

 **dereleek:** so i met this girl at the pool today

 **allyayyyyy:** ooooooooooooooooooh

 **allyayyyyy:** is she pretty?

 **dereleek:** more IMPORTANTLY she seems really nice

 **allyayyyyy:** im proud of u buddy

 **allyayyyyy:** detailssss

 **dereleek:** yesterday we took dumb pics in one of those photobooth things i mean it was w/e

 **allyayyyyy:** AHAHAHAHAHA DEREK UR SUCH A LOSER

 **dereleek:** harsh

 **allyayyyyy:** lemme see the pics

 **dereleek:** see if i ever pretend to be your hot college friend so you look cool to your friends

 **allyayyyyy:** u dont even look cool to ur own friends how r u gonna look cool to mine

 **allyayyyyy:** bsides i dont have any friends

 **allyayyyyy:** picsssssss

 **dereleek:** calm down they’re loading

**dereleek sent a file.**

**allyayyyyy:** …………

 **dereleek:** oh come on they’re not that bad

 **allyayyyyy:** thats her?

 **dereleek:** yeah her name’s kate she’s pretty cool

 **allyayyyyy:** hang on

**allyayyyyy is Away.**

**allyayyyyy:** k so maybe its just the sunglasses blocking half ur faces

 **allyayyyyy:** but

 **allyayyyyy:** uh

 **allyayyyyy:** this isnt her right?

**allyayyyyy sent a file.**

**dereleek:** …why do you have a picture of her

 **allyayyyyy:** thats her??????

 **dereleek:** yeah

 **allyayyyyy:** DEREK THATS MY AUNT KATE

 **allyayyyyy:** U CANT DATE MY AUNT EWWWW

 **allyayyyyy:** Y R U DATING MY AUNT

 **dereleek:** WHAT

 **dereleek:** i didn’t know that was your aunt!!!

 **dereleek:** you don’t have the same last name how was i supposed to know

 **dereleek:** i thought no one in your family lived here????

 **allyayyyyy:** I THOUGHT SO TOO

 **allyayyyyy:** wait what we totally have the same last name

 **allyayyyyy:** kate argent thats her name

 **dereleek:** she said her last name was wagnre

 **dereleek:** wagner

 **allyayyyyy:** WTF

 **allyayyyyy:** I NEED TO TALK TO MY DAD

 **allyayyyyy:** U NEED TO BREAK UP W HER

**allyayyyyy is Away.**

**dereleek:** okay okay ill break up with her

 **dereleek:** damn why do i have such bad taste in girls

 **allyayyyyy:** ok dad said shes in COLORADO rn ummm

 **allyayyyyy:** im really confused

 **allyayyyyy:** i think my fmailys lying to me

 **dereleek:** allison…

 **dereleek:** are you still there?

 **dereleek:** i can go if you want

 **allyayyyyy:** ok here’s the plan

 **allyayyyyy:** ur gonna spy on my aunt

 **allyayyyyy:** im gonna spy on my dad

 **allyayyyyy:** and then well compare notes

 **dereleek:** …so you want me to keep dating her?

 **allyayyyyy:** YES

 **allyayyyyy:** UNDERCOVER SECRET BOYFRIEND

 **allyayyyyy:** but like be careful bc shes lying to u for some reason

 **allyayyyyy:** maybe shes a secret agent idk

 **allyayyyyy:** thatd be cool

 **dereleek:** IF I GET SHOT BECAUSE I’M FAKE DATING YOUR SECRET AGENT AUNT I’M GONNA BE SO PISSED

 **allyayyyyy:** my aunts hella cool she wouldnt let u get shot

 **dereleek:** but your dad sells guns for a living

 **allyayyyyy:** yeah thats true

 **allyayyyyy:** gtg my mom wants to use the phone

 **allyayyyyy:** ttyl

 **dereleek:** k bye

 **allyayyyyy:** bye

**allyayyyyy signed off at 8:22 pm.**

**dereleek signed off at 8:22 pm.**

Derek sits down next to his mother and holds out a mug of tea. She raises an eyebrow. “What have you done now, Derek?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Derek says. “But, um.” He takes a deep breath. “I want to tell Allison about werewolves.”

“You can’t,” she says immediately. “That’s up to her family as hunters.”

“But I don’t want to lie to her!” Derek protests. “She knows her family’s lying to her, and I think she trusts me, and I don’t want to lie to her when she trusts me! What if she gets hurt?”

“They protect their own, especially when they’re young,” Mom says. “Why do you think she’ll get hurt?”

He fiddles with his hands. “I’m kind of accidentally dating her aunt.” Mom raises her other eyebrow. “It really was an accident, okay? I didn’t know she was an Argent, she lied about her last name and her heart didn’t even blip or anything, and I usually don’t do background checks on my girlfriends…” He trails off. “Oh god, maybe I should.”

“Derek.” She gently places her hands over his. “Tell me the whole story, and start from the beginning.”

 

Kate says, “I’d love to meet your family, Derek.”

Kate says, “Why don’t you ever invite me over?”

Kate says, “I wish there was somewhere we could go where we could be alone.”

So Derek takes her to the steel mill where he and Paige used to sneak out. The spiral is still carved into the wall. Now that it’s older and rusting, Derek’s starting to appreciate the beauty in its savagery. Paige had a point, all those years ago. She’s always been so much more mature than him.

Kate’s heart leaps into overdrive when she sees the spiral. “What’s that?” she asks flippantly, but it takes her a second too long to calm her heart down.

Derek shrugs. “I dunno. Some kind of art, maybe? I think it’s really cool. Here,” He moves them to the middle of the room. “You can see the moon through it if you stand there. Cool, right?”

“Full moon tonight?”

It’s not. It’s waning, actually, and has been for several days now, but it looks full enough to the naked eye. “Yeah, I think so.”

She smiles. It looks more like a baring of teeth.

 

_Derek sighs and leans back on his hands. “You’re not on some heroic savior mission, you won’t tell me if any movies from the future are worth watching, why are you even here?” He sits up. “Seriously, though. Why’d you come back?”_

_“You didn’t send me back, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Scott says. “Actually, uh.” He shuts his mouth and shakes his head. “We – well, we knew each other, where I’m from.”_

_“Yeah, I figured that much,” Derek says. He can’t help but notice the past tense. “Were we friends?”_

_“Yeah.” Scott nods immediately and smiles at him. “Yeah, we were friends. Good friends.”_

_His heart thuds in his chest. He looks over Scott, his hair, his clothes, anything that might tell him_ when _this eighteen-year-old came from. “So I’m the damsel that died, then.”_

_“What?” Scott’s eyebrows disappear into his hairline. “What makes you think that?”_

_“You keep talking about me in past tense,” Derek says. “People only do that when someone’s dead.” He’s seen it happen firsthand, the grammar of his father slowly changing over the past three years. “Trust me.”_

_He hears Scott inhale sharply, and an arm settles around his back. “I’m sorry about your dad,” he says._

_“He died a hero,” Derek says. “He died doing his job, doing what he was supposed to do. He saved that family’s life. He was the only one who could. If he hadn’t gone into that house, they would have died.” He shrugs. “And even werewolves can burn.”_

_Scott’s grip tightens on his arm. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, we can.”_

 

Derek drives to the car shop, the smoothie shop, the ice cream parlor, and the police department before circling back to the car shop and finding Laura hiding underneath an ugly blue Jeep. “Traitor!” she shrieks at Tucker when he helps Derek pull her out. “You’re a traitor and you’re fired!”

“You can’t fire me, you need my flexible hours,” Tucker says. “Like right now, when you have to go to your big family reunion.”

“I won’t forget this, Cornish,” Laura hisses while Derek drags her to the car. “Just when you least expect it, I will have my revenge!”

“That’s fine,” Tucker says, calm in that way that only surfers seem to be. “As long as you don’t, like, drop a car on me or something.”

“I’m your boss, not a barbarian,” Laura says. Derek starts the car and drives away. “But I’m still onto you!”

“How’d you mask your scent the first time?” Derek asks.

“Sat in a circle of ammonia and made Tucker promise not to let you near the closet,” Laura says. “Derek, I don’t _wanna_ go. I knew I shouldn’t have come home before commencement.”

“And here I thought I was the younger sibling,” Derek says.

“Mom invited, like, half of NorCal!” Laura protests. “There’s six alphas and four emissaries and like _twenty_ druids and I have to talk to _all_ of them. Aunt Dahlia and Uncle Peter are going to judge me so hard. I thought this was supposed to be just family.”

“Well, it’s as good an excuse to check up on all the younger packs,” Derek says. “And the other druids are extra protection. She thinks the Argents might try something.”

“Because of Kate?” Laura asks.

“Because of Kate.”

Laura blows the bangs off her face. “You know, before he died, Deucalion told us what Gerard Argent did to them. He’s a seriously messed up guy. That’s Kate’s _dad_. I get that you wanted to keep an eye on her, but these people are seriously dangerous.”

“Yeah, well.”

Derek turns onto the lane that leads to the edge of the Preserve where their home is. Laura sits bolt upright in her chair. “Do you hear sirens?”

“Sirens?” He strains his ears and hears a faint wailing.

“They’re coming from the house,” Laura says. “Derek-” He floors the gas and speeds down the road.

There’s an array of fire trucks, ambulances, and squad cars parked outside the house. Derek smells a little smoke and char, but everything seems to be intact and he can see most of their guests sitting on the lawn. “Mom’s talking to the Sheriff,” Laura says.

They climb out of the car and run up to the house, but the nearest deputy turns towards them. “Folks, this is a crime scene, I’m gonna have to ask you to-”

“We live here,” Derek says.

“Well, I don’t, but I visit a lot and also that’s my mom,” Laura says, pointing. Derek and the deputy blink at her for a moment. “What? Full disclosure, Deputy Stilinski. I figure honesty’s a good thing right now.”

“Honesty is always a good thing,” Deputy Stilinski says, clapping them both on the shoulders and leading them towards the group of people on the lawn. Derek sees Kate turn to glare at him from the backseat of one of the squad cars as they pass.

Laura dives immediately for Cora. “Is everyone all right?”

“You’re squashing my face,” Cora says, trapped somewhere in the vicinity of her chest. She leans back. “Yeah, we’re all fine. Uncle Peter got a little burned, but they say he’ll make a full recovery. He’s in the ambulance.”

Laura glances at the cops milling around. “He’ll heal?” she asks carefully.

“The same way we all do,” Julia says, scooting closer to them. “It wasn’t a normal fire.”

“Arson,” Derek says, still staring at Kate. “It was arson.”

 

Derek tells Kenny and Sasha that he’s a werewolf at the beginning of their senior year. They take it in stride, but Derek notices the sidelong glances Sasha shoots him during practice and his oh-so-slightly increased heart rate when Derek moves near him and, worst of all, the bitter scent of fear.

Sasha starts spending more time with other classmates and picks Camden from the swim team as his lab partner over Derek. Camden shoots him an apologetic glance; Derek shrugs back. He knew this might happen. Honesty isn’t always the best policy.

Kenny sits down next to Derek. “He’ll come around, man,” he says. “It’s just…I mean, we’ve known each other since we were fighting on the monkey bars, you know, it’s a lot to process.”

“Yeah,” Derek says. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, don’t apologize,” Kenny says. “That’s like me apologizing for being Chinese. It’ll work out, don’t worry.” He frowns down at their lab assignment. “Maybe not this, though. We both suck at physics.”

Derek’s cousin, Belladonna, is great at physics and even greater at lording it over Derek. He can swallow his pride and ask her for help if Kenny can accept Derek being a werewolf. “I know someone who can help us,” he says. Kenny beams.

Sasha stops talking to Derek. Derek stays in the locker room as long as possible after practice and turns all the showers to full blast, but even over the racket he can still hear the dull echoes of Sasha and Kenny screaming at each other because of him. He presses his hands over his ears and doesn’t move until he hears two separate cars tear out of the parking lot.

 **From:** Kenny WUUHUU, 8:24 pm

sry u had 2 here that man

 **From:** Kenny WUUHUU, 8:32 pm

we still on for sat?

 **From:** Kenny WUUHUU, 8:50 pm

bro u there?

 **From:** Kenny WUUHUU, 8:55 pm

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 **To:** Kenny WUUHUU, 8:56 pm

im sorry

 **From:** Kenny WUUHUU, 8:59 pm

im sry sashas a dumbass

 **From:** Kenny WUUHUU, 9:01 pm

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 **From:** Kenny WUUHUU, 9:03 pm

knock knock

 **To:** Kenny WUUHUU, 9:05 pm

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 **From:** Kenny WUUHUU, 9:06 pm

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 **To:** Kenny WUUHUU, 9:06 pm

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 **From:** Kenny WUUHUU, 9:07 pm

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 **From:** Kenny WUUHUU, 9:08 pm

dont 4get 2 bring pepsi on sat

 **To:** Kenny WUUHUU, 9:15 pm

thanks, kenny

 **From:** Kenny WUUHUU, 9:17 pm

ive eaten ur boogers man ur always gonna b my friend

 

“This is the _coolest_ wedding I have ever been to!” Paige exclaims. “Derek, thank you so much for bringing me as your plus one.”

“Glad one of us is having fun,” Derek says. He scowls at the dance floor, where Laura has abandoned him to flirt with some beta from Thomas Leon’s pack, Randy or Tyler or some equally stupid name like that. Cora’s so lucky she got shipped off to music camp for spring break instead of going to this.

“Come on! Alpha-alpha-emissary polyamorous werewolf druid wedding!” Paige says. “I have learned so many new dances. Braeden showed me like ten ways to kill a man with a champagne flute. Morrell gives the weirdest life advice. How are you _not_ having fun?”

“Oh, I dunno,” Derek says. “Being stuck at the kiddie table with these idiots, maybe?”

Malia Tate crosses her tiny arms and glares at him. “I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you’re talking about the twins and not me.”

“Aiden drank all my juice!” one of the twins – Ethan, presumably – wails. Malia sighs.

Paige props her hands on her hips. “That wasn’t very nice, Aiden,” she says firmly. “Why don’t you come help me get more juice for everyone?”

“Why should I?” the twin – Aiden? – asks snottily.

“Because _I_ know where they’re keeping the sparkling cider,” Paige says.

The twin leans forward in spit of himself. “What’s sparkling cider?”

“You’ve never had sparkling cider?” Malia asks with a frown. “Did you grow up in the woods or something?”

“It’s bubbly!” Paige interjects before a fight can start. “It’s just like what the grown-ups are drinking, except tastier. It fizzes on your tongue!”

The twin glances back at Malia, who nods at him. He nods resolutely and slides off his chair. “Okay.” Paige holds out her hand. “I’m not gonna hold your hand, you’re a _girl!_ ”

Derek had hoped they were old enough to have outgrown the cooties stage. Apparently not. “Ethan-”

“I’m Aiden!”

“Aiden,” Derek says firmly, “You never disrespect a girl – you never disrespect _anyone_ ,” he adds quickly after a glare from Paige, “and you always listen to what they have to say. Understood?”

Aiden growls at him with glowing blue eyes. The growl is about as threatening as a kitten’s, but the eye color sends a chill down Derek’s spine. It’s not right, what these kids had to go through at such a young age. He lets his own eyes glow yellow until Aiden breaks and drops his gaze. “Yes, Derek,” he huffs. He grudgingly sticks one hand in Paige’s and jams his other thumb into his mouth. Paige tries her hardest not to coo.

“Thumbsucker,” the other twin – Ethan, right, Ethan – says derisively once they’re out of earshot. “He’s such a baby.”

“You were _just_ crying about him drinking your juice,” Malia says.

“He always takes my _stuff_ ,” Ethan whines.

“Ugh, you’re such babies,” Malia mutters, as if she isn’t the exact same age as them. Then again, she grew up with a loving family and no murder. That probably makes a difference.

Derek shrugs at Ethan. “Then don’t let him take your stuff. Don’t let him boss you around.”

“You let your sisters boss you around,” Ethan says.

“I listen to my sisters because I love them,” Derek says.

“Well, I love my brother!”

“Well, good!” Derek has no idea how they ended up snapping at each other. The twins have so many issues, and he’s never been good at babysitting. Malia rolls her eyes at him. “But just because you love him doesn’t mean you have to do everything he says.”

“But that’s how it works,” Ethan says, blinking at him with big brown eyes. “If you’re weaker, you have to obey.”

Ennis and Kali really have their work cut out for them with these poor devils. “No,” he says awkwardly while Malia scoots her chair a little further away from Ethan. “That’s not how it works. Trust me.”

“I don’t trust you,” Ethan says immediately.

“Well, okay,” Derek says. “That’s fair.”

“Ethan!” the other twin – Aiden, right – jumps onto Ethan’s chair and sloshes sparkling cider all over him. “Ethan, you gotta try this, it’s so good!”

“I don’t have to obey you, Aiden,” Ethan declares. “Because Derek said so.” Derek groans and hides his face in his palm.

“Okay,” Aiden says, “But this is really good.”

“Okay,” Ethan says imperiously, and accepts the glass from him. “Hey, this is really good!”

“If you promise to behave, I’ll take you both to the chocolate fountain later,” Paige says. “But you have to try _really really_ hard to behave.”

The twins stare at her like she’s the second coming of Werewolf Jesus and nod in unison. “How,” Derek asks her flatly.

She tosses her hair. “Get on my level, Hale.”

Malia scoots her chair closer to Paige. “Teach me your ways,” she whispers.

 

Derek eventually manages to detach from the kids long enough to steal a dance with Braeden. She’s gorgeous, and her dress is exceptionally slinky, and she can tango like nobody’s business. Derek’s suddenly grateful for all the times Laura forced him to fill in as her dance partner when they were kids. “Do you really know ten ways to kill a man with a champagne flute?” he asks as they whirl around the dance floor.

She spins close to him and deftly flicks her leg between his. “Of course not,” she says, dragging her eyes up and down his body. “There’s way more than just ten.”

When Paige catches him leaving the bathroom a few minutes after Braeden, hair mussed and tie completely askew, she just laughs and holds her hand up for a high five. “I’m not even mad about you ditching me with the kids,” she says. She nods at Braeden across the room, whose hair is in an even worse state than Derek’s. “Man, if I were into that, I’d hit that so fast.”

“Hitting people is wrong,” one of the twins says as they catch up to Paige.

“You’re absolutely right, Aiden,” Paige says, nodding solemnly.

Malia tilts her head at Derek’s tie. “What happened to your tie?”

“Derek tangoed a little too hard,” Paige says with a smirk. “Now, who wants to go see the chocolate fountain?”

The twins actually jump up and down in excitement while Malia looks torn between being wary of the twins and jumping up and down right along with them. “Can we eat some of the chocolate, too?” Ethan – maybe? – asks. When Paige nods, he squeals and hugs her ribs. (The other twin hugs Malia, and she stares up at Derek in wide-eyed alarm. Maybe she still believes in cooties, too.)

“Oh my god, you have them trained,” Derek marvels.

“I’m just that awesome,” Paige says modestly.

 

Laura and her team run into Chris Argent and his team during patrols. Apparently, the Argents have moved to Beacon Hills to hunt down their patriarch, who Kate claimed to be behind the arson.

Derek remembers the stories about Deucalion. He’ll believe it.

In the meantime, Derek goes to UC Beacon Hills, plays intramural basketball, and gets a degree in history. (“Nerd,” Cora snorts. She wants to be a cop. Derek can’t decide if she’d be wonderful or terrible at it.) He dates a couple of girls, and hooks up with even more girls and boys with dark hair and beauty marks under their eyes. None of his relationships last longer than two months. It’s a relief whenever Braeden stops by for a few days, to connect with someone with no expectations and no strings attached. She already knows him, and she doesn’t try to get to know him. It’s perfect.

He lives with Paige, Devon from San Francisco, and Aimee from SoCal. Paige forces them all to watch High School Musical when it airs, and nearly pisses herself laughing when she catches Derek and Devon watching the sequel by themselves a year later (it’s not as good as the first one, but he likes the baseball number). Derek and Aimee lock themselves in her room after she goes through a nasty breakup with her girlfriend in UCLA and blast “Konstantine” for an hour straight.

He makes sure to chat with Allison every week and visit her whenever he has a free weekend – and whenever Victoria Argent actually lets him near her daughter. Allison loves hearing about his cool college friends – they’re not cool, not even remotely, but she doesn’t seem to care – but gets quiet when he asks her about her own.

Aimee and Devon take him shopping for a leather jacket to match his new facial hair. (He doesn’t get it, but he goes with it. Aimee and Devon are kind of terrifying together.) Paige sprains something laughing at him, but Devon insists he looks cool. Devon’s a city kid. He knows these things.

One day, he wears the leather jacket and borrows Devon’s Ray-Bans and Laura’s Camaro and drives to Beacon Hills Middle School to pick Allison up for the weekend. Chris Argent isn’t too pleased when he hears about it, but it’s worth it to see all the jealous and admiring stares Allison gets when he takes her backpack and helps her into the car.

A week later, Allison mentions going shopping with some girl named Lydia Martin. Derek tries not to preen. Leather jackets have an amazing effect on younger kids. Who knew.

(Against all odds, Cora manages to actually make a friend in the sixth grade. His name is Boyd – Derek doesn’t really get what the hell kind of a name is Boyd, but whatever – and he is, according to Cora, the coolest kid ever. They sit in the corner of the cafeteria and judge everyone.)

The Argents finally catch up to Gerard Argent during finals week of Derek’s sophomore year. He apparently convinced an alpha werewolf to bite him to cure his cancer. The bite didn’t take, and he died. Allison seems vaguely sad an in an arbitrary sort of way. She’d never really known him, she says, and she’s more sad that she never got to know him than anything.

Chris Argent seems more angry than sad. Derek isn’t going anywhere near that.

 

Braeden traces the swirls of Derek’s triskele while they doze on his cramped twin bed. “When’d you get this?” she asks.

“Couple years ago,” he says. “After high school.” He doesn’t add, _after Kate_ , but Braeden puts the pieces together anyway. She hums and finishes tracing the last spiral before propping up on her elbows. “Derek.” He grunts and shoves his face further into his pillow, but she pokes at his shoulder until he rolls over. “What?” he asks.

“You know you can let people in, right?” she says.

He squints at her. “We’re not having this conversation,” he says, and tries to roll back over. He makes it halfway before he runs into the wall. Stupid narrow twin beds.

“We _are_ having this conversation,” Braeden says firmly. “I know you’re capable of falling in love. Just because your first rebound happened to be a psychopathic werewolf hunter doesn’t mean you have to shut everyone out.”

“I don’t shut everyone out,” Derek says, gesturing between their naked bodies. “You could probably kill me with your pinky, but here we are.”

“It’d take more than my pinky,” Braeden says. Derek rolls his eyes. “And besides, I meant emotionally. I mean, I’m a big fan of our no-strings arrangement, but you can’t tell me _all_ the girls and boys here are romantically undesirable.”

“You’d be surprised,” Derek quips. Braeden doesn’t laugh, and he sighs. “The first date I went on with Kate, I didn’t know anything about her. She seemed so great. I couldn’t even tell she was lying. And most of the stuff she told me turned out to not be too far from the truth, anyway. It’s like, how can you ever trust anyone? How do you let someone in that much?”

Braeden stares at him for a moment. “Do you trust me?” she asks.

“Well, yeah,” Derek says. “But I’ve known you for years. I know people who can vouch for you. And more importantly, I’m not in love with you.”

“You fell in love with Paige and you barely knew her.”

“Yeah, and now she’s my best friend,” he says. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. I just don’t want romance right now.”

“Okay,” Braeden says. “But as long as it’s what you really want and not just what you think is best.”

Derek traces her collarbone instead of answering. “Where’re you headed this time?”

“Canada,” she says. “Probably won’t make it back here for a couple of years.”

“Bummer.” He presses a kiss to her throat before biting down and sucking a mark. It won’t stay. It never does. “You make things more interesting.”

She arches against him and scrapes blunt nails down his back. When she drags him up for a kiss, the marks are already gone.

 

_“Just – just don’t be afraid to let people in, okay?” Scott says. “Don’t be afraid to give people a chance.”_

_“I’m not afraid to let people in,” Derek says. “I’m a living lie detector. Why would I be worried about getting hurt?”_

_“Someone could tell the truth and still manipulate you.”_

_“You know, that’s not really helping your ‘let people in’ argument,” Derek says. “Which is completely unnecessary, by the way. I’m not afraid of people. I’m not afraid of anything.”_

_“Everyone’s afraid of something,” Scott says._

_“So, what are you afraid of?” Derek asks._

_“Losing the people I love.”_

_“Aw, that’s such a cop-out!” Derek complains, swatting his arm. “Everyone’s afraid of that, but it’s not like people just drop dead for no…” He trails off when he sees blood trickling out of Scott’s clenched fist. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean-”_

_“It’s fine,” Scott says, shaking his head as the yellow fades from his eyes. He slowly unclenches his hand, revealing human fingers and fresh scabs. “Things are a little different where I’m from, that’s all.”_

_“How bad is it there?” Derek asks carefully._

_Scott stares at him for a long time, eyes bearing into his so deeply that Derek feels like he’s being laid bare. Then he says, “They’re making a new X-Men movie where I’m from.”_

_“They still make movies?” Derek asks. The scabs on Scott’s hand aren’t going away; he’ll go along with his non-sequitir. “Well, good to know you don’t live in a complete dystopia.”_

_“I told you, Derek, I’m no Kyle Reese.”_

_“You’re no Kitty Pryde, either,” Derek says. Scott’s brows scrunch in confusion. “You know, Shadowcat? X-Men, Days of Future Past? She travels back in time to stop the wipeout of the mutant race from happening?”_

_Scott’s eyebrows slowly rise. “Oh,” he says. “I guess I don’t know that one.”_

_“It’s kind of a downer,” Derek says. “So I guess that’d make it right up your alley.”_

_“You’re hilarious.”_

 

The summer after Gerard Argent dies, the Argents finally tell Allison about hunters and werewolves. Allison doesn’t talk to Derek for a month, then confronts him at his house and punches him in the face.

He deserves it. He lied to her. And that punch actually kind of hurt; he’s impressed.

She eventually forgives him, gets angry all over again when she puts the pieces together and realizes why her aunt tried to kill Derek’s family, and gets angry all over again, again, when her mother tells her about Gerard’s death and why his actions were so despised.

“It’s not that I want to be a werewolf,” Allison says, sitting with Derek on the porch. Her duffel bag with a week’s worth of clothes and other essentials, including her stuffed wolf, Dale, is in Derek’s room; her father’s given up tracking her back here every time she runs away from home, and Allison’s favorite tea is now stocked in the Hale kitchen. “But if I was accidentally bit by one, what’s so bad about it?”

“The bite shouldn’t be accidental in the first place,” Derek says. “The bite is a gift. It should be purposefully given and purposefully accepted.”

Allison sighs. “I just can’t believe my ancestors have _killed themselves_ for it.”

“Politics are weird,” Derek says.

 

Nearly a year after Specialist Camden Lahey’s funeral – Derek remembers him from school, he’d seemed like a nice guy, and it’s crazy that someone he’d sat with in Physics class just a few years ago is dead and gone – Cora announces, “Isaac Lahey smells wrong.”

Laura pauses in taking a bite of her garlic bread. “So tell him to shower more or buy him some body spray,” she says. “And did you have to bring it up in the middle of dinner?”

“Yes,” Cora says stubbornly. “I didn’t say he stinks, I said he _smells wrong_.”

“Um.” Derek tries to look at Boyd without actually looking at Boyd. Allison coughs.

“He smells sad and hurt and scared _all the time_ ,” Cora says. “He smells _hurt_ , Laura.”

“Cora,” Derek hisses, jerking his head at Boyd.

“What?” Cora asks. “Boyd’s known about werewolves for ages.”

“Yeah, I talked to Talia about it a while back,” Boyd says agreeably. “I think you were at college at the time, Derek.”

“Was anyone going to tell me this?” Derek demands.

Laura shrugs. “You would’ve figured it out eventually, probably.” She turns back to Cora. “I still don’t see why you’re telling me about this. I can’t do a thing about bullying at school-”

“We don’t think it’s bullying,” Boyd says. “I have first period gym with him. He changes in the bathroom stalls-”

“Some people are self-conscious,” Derek says.

“It looked like there were welts on his back once,” Boyd says. “Kids don’t leave welts on your back.”

“And he smells the worst when he’s going home, especially before the weekend,” Cora adds.

Laura puts her fork down. “Shouldn’t you be telling the police this and not me?”

“He lives alone with his father, and they don’t have any living relatives,” Boyd says. “He’ll just go into the system and could end up in an even worse situation.”

“We want you to talk to Mom,” Cora says. “Maybe we can take him in. Aunt Dahlia’s a lawyer, and Mom probably has alpha connections for this sort of thing.”

“Okay, I’ll talk to Mom,” Laura says. “But you two need to talk to him first. If he doesn’t want this, then we shouldn’t do it to him.”

“But we should protect him anyway,” Allison says. They turn to look at her. “Right?” she says. “We should protect them if they can’t protect themselves.”

“Even if they don’t think they deserve to be protected,” Derek adds.

Laura looks between them thoughtfully. “Right,” she says. “Everyone deserves to be protected.”

 

Derek convinces Ms. Finch to give Isaac a job at the library while the paperwork goes through. He organizes book displays with bright and colorful signs, and Derek comes home during a long weekend to see a partly-finished mural on the side of the building. “He’s really quite talented, that Lahey boy,” Ms. Finch says. “It’s such a shame about his family. I’m glad yours is taking care of him now.”

“Thanks for getting him a job here,” Derek says.

“Oh, I should be thanking you,” she says. “He’s much better at that Tweeter and FacePage stuff than you are.”

“Hey, I’m getting a degree. I’m not _completely_ useless.”

“Just barely,” she agrees.

He graduates, moves back home, and starts working at the library part-time. Ms. Finch wants to retire, and he’ll take over as librarian once he finishes his MLIS. He inherits Uncle Peter’s library for good – he left not long after the fire and hasn’t come back for even a short visit since – and splits his time between studying for his degree and absorbing as much information from the old books as he can. Paige pats his head fondly. “You were such an asshole little jock when I met you,” she says, “And now look at you, an asshole little nerd. I’m so proud.”

“I still can’t play a single musical instrument,” Derek points out.

“And Devon tried _so hard_ with the trumpet,” Paige says mournfully. He still has the mouthpiece that Derek had somehow managed to warp. He takes it out every now and then just to laugh at him.

 

Kali rolls into town long enough to drop off Malia and the twins at the house, and rolls right back out of town.

 _“Why,”_ Derek complains.

“Relax, we’re living with Malia’s family,” one of the twins says. “We’re just here to say hello to your alpha.”

Derek turns to Malia. “You’re actually okay with them _living_ with you?”

Malia reaches up and pats the nearest twin – Ethan? No, Aiden, that’s probably Aiden – on the back. “Aw, they’re really not that bad, Derek.”

The other one looks disdainfully at Isaac, frozen on the couch. “What’s that thing?”

Malia sighs. “You were saying?” Derek asks her.

“His name is Isaac, dipshit,” Cora snarls at Ai – Eth – the twin. Literally snarls. Isaac looks torn between wanting to stay for the show and wanting to leave before things start getting broken.

“What are you even doing here?” Derek asks who he thinks might be Ethan. Ethan always listened to him more.

“We don’t have to answer to you,” the twin snaps. Derek isn’t sure if Ethan turned into even more of an asshole, or if he’s just talking to Aiden.

“If you’re going to be attending high school under my watch, you’re going to have to be much more respectful,” Mom says as she glides into the living room. Derek wishes he could carry graceful authority the way she does, but then again, he was never meant to be an alpha.

Wait. “Did you say _attending high school?_ ” Cora asks.

Mom nods. “Isaac, this is Ethan and Aiden, and that’s Malia. They’ll be new classmates of yours in the fall.”

Isaac stands up and holds out his hand to the nearest twin. “Nice to meet you, Aiden.”

“I’m _Ethan_ ,” Ethan says balefully.

“Ethan,” Mom says calmly. She doesn’t even put her alpha voice behind it, but Ethan’s shoulders twitch and he grudgingly shakes Isaac’s hand. After a moment, Aiden does the same.

“Why are they going to school here?” Cora whines. Derek has never been more grateful for the age gap between him and the twins.

“Their previous school was a bad fit,” Mom says. “Kali hopes that they can have a fresh start here. And the Tates have decided to move back so their children can attend school here.”

“Our school system isn’t _that_ good,” Isaac mutters. Malia glares at him. “What? It’s just okay.”

Cora comes home from her first day of high school looking like she hates everything, which isn’t surprising. Isaac and Boyd look amused, which is more worrying. “Kali gave them _motorcycles_ ,” Cora says. “Why would she give a couple of idiot freshmen _motorcycles_.”

“Malia looks pretty badass on hers, though,” Isaac says.

Derek points at him. “No.”

“What? All I was saying was-”

_“No.”_

 

“So this girl in my gym class, Erica Reyes, has epilepsy,” Isaac says one day in the middle of dinner. “It’s, like, really bad. She gets seizures a lot.”

“Isaac,” Mom says, “Becoming a werewolf isn’t a cure-all.”

“She’s in the hospital a _lot_ ,” Isaac says. “And everyone laughs at her at school. The only one who helps her during seizures is this guy whose mom’s a nurse.”

“Someone uploaded a video of one of her seizures and it went viral,” Cora adds.

Ethan squeezes his cup too tight and splatters glass and cranberry juice everywhere. “Why would they do that?” he asks, using his napkin to mop up the spill but not doing a thing about the glass embedded in his palm. Malia turns his hand over and starts picking the shards out with her claws like it’s a perfectly normal routine. Maybe it is, for them.

“Belittling someone weaker so that you feel more powerful,” Cora says with a shrug. “You know how it goes.”

“I-” Ethan frowns down at his chicken alfredo. “But that’s not right.”

Cora looks at Derek with wide eyes. “Holy shit, I think Morrell’s actually getting through to them.”

“Language, Cora,” Mom says mildly.

“Who made the video?” Aiden asks.

“I dunno.” Cora shrugs.

“Well, we’re going to find out,” Aiden says.

Cora raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “And then what?”

Aiden grins, letting his fangs grow.

“Murder is bad!” Derek blurts. They stare at him, nonplussed. “I’m just saying.”

“I’m not going to murder a teenager, Derek,” Aiden says, rolling his eyes. “Just some bruises and maybe a cracked rib.”

“Or two,” Malia adds.

“We can make it a gym accident!” Ethan says cheerfully.

“Violence is not the answer,” Mom says firmly. The twins, Malia, and Cora – and _Isaac_ , geez – look far too disappointed for Derek’s liking. Derek’s going to have to talk to Boyd about making sure they don’t do anything stupid. “If you find out who’s behind the video, you can take them to the police and make them face legal consequences.”

“But that doesn’t change anything with the kids at school,” Cora protests. “They’re still going to point and laugh at her, and they’ll probably still film her, too. They just won’t upload it.”

“I don’t want to hear about any of you getting in trouble for physical altercations or doing anything illegal,” Mom says.

“So, um, can I talk to her about the whole…” Isaac waves his hands around. “Werewolf thing?”

“I’d like to speak with her first,” Mom says. “And I’ll be speaking with her parents as well before anyone makes a decision.”

“Cool, I’ll bring her over for a study date,” Isaac says, nodding eagerly. “Thanks, Talia.”

“You’re very compassionate, Isaac,” Mom says. “That’s an important trait to have.”

Isaac blushes and smiles down at his plate.

 

To absolutely no one’s surprise – although Mom does sigh in disappointment and make them feel slightly ashamed – Cora and Aiden get suspended a few weeks later for locking a rather bruised Nick Johnson in Jared’s puke locker in the boys’ locker room. (Derek’s more disturbed that some guy named Jared apparently has a designated puke locker.) Nick Johnson also gets fined by the police for the video, and Cora spends most of her suspension following Sheriff Stilinski around like a lost puppy.

(She’s gotten super serious about the cop thing, ever since Boyd’s little sister, Alicia, went missing at the ice rink last year and Cora tracked and tackled her would-be kidnapper to the ground. She now spends at least a few hours each week hanging around the BHPD and attempting to learn by osmosis, or maybe just glaring criminals into submission. Derek doesn’t really know, but Sheriff Stilinski doesn’t seem to mind having her around and even lets her hang out in his office when he’s doing paperwork. She still hasn’t befriended his son, though, and Derek can’t say he’s surprised by that.)

“How’d you find out it was Nick?” Derek asks Cora.

She taps her nose enigmatically. “I have friends in high places.”

“You have, like, two friends total.”

Isaac smiles. “Wait, I’m your friend now?”

Cora glares at Derek. “You’re the worst.”

“Aw, but Isaac looks so cute when he’s happy,” Derek says.

“I am pretty cute,” Isaac says modestly. He’s going to be insufferable when he starts dating.

 

“Hey, so, Isaac’s pretty cute,” Allison says.

“No,” Derek says immediately.

“I just meant-”

_“No.”_

Allison holds her hands up. “Okay, fine, I’ll ask Jackson to the dance instead. You’re so protective, it’s adorable.”

“I am not adorable,” Derek says immediately. “And I thought Jackson was with Lydia.”

“They broke up again,” Allison says with a sigh. “Being friends with both of them is exhausting.”

“So don’t be friends with Jackson,” Derek says. He really doesn’t like that kid. He’s an asshole and he never returns his books on time and he always double parks in front of the library entrance.

“Oh, he’s not all that bad,” Allison says. “He really does have his nice moments. You just have to…really look for them.”

She sounds just like Malia and the twins. At least the twins are still working their way back from a terrible childhood; Jackson’s just a spoiled brat. “Whatever. It’s your bad life decisions.”

“Yes, it is,” Allison says happily.

 

_“Dude,” Scott says, squirming under Derek’s gaze. “What are you doing?”_

_Derek knows his stares can come off as intense, bordering on creepy, but there are more pressing matters at hand. “I’m committing your face to memory,” he says. “So that I’ll recognize you as soon as I see you again.”_

_“You probably won’t even recognize me,” Scott says. “I was human when we met. I was this weird asthmatic loser.”_

_“You had asthma?” Derek asks. He can’t even imagine what it’d feel like to not be able to breathe._

_Scott nods. “I was very uncool. Huge loser.”_

_“I think you’re cool,” Derek says loyally._

_“That’s because you’re seeing me now,” Scott says._

_“But I’ll see you then,” Derek says. “And I’ll think you’re cool.”_

_“Nah.” Scott shakes his head. “Trust me. You won’t.”_

_“I trust you,” Derek says agreeably. “But you’re wrong.”_

_Scott looks caught somewhere between pleased and resigned. Derek smirks._

 

Isaac decides to try out for the lacrosse team, so Derek is obligated to go with Cora and Boyd to his games. He’s not first line, but he seems to be the top substitute or whatever for Coach Finstock’s tiny legion of benchwarmers and gets to play sometimes. Derek wishes he could bring a book along to read or something – he discovered an entire anthology on kitsune in the back of Uncle Peter’s library, they’re _so cool_ – but Isaac occasionally checks the stands to see if they’re there. He caught Derek reading once and made the saddest puppy face, and Derek’s felt horribly guilty about it ever since. So he mostly sits in the stands and crosses his arms and scowls while Cora unleashes weeks of repressed teen spirit and Boyd holds up signs with increasingly bad puns.

“I really hope they win this game,” Boyd says excitedly. Well, he speaks a little faster than usual and his eyebrows curve a little higher, which Derek is fairly sure means that he’s excited. “Because then their next home game will be against the Modesto Roosters, and I really want to make a sign that says CYCLONES BLOW MODEST COCKS.”

“That’s…” Derek blinks. “Well, all right, Boyd.”

“I mean, how often do you get an opportunity like that.”

“It’s very rare,” Derek agrees.

“I think next season I’m going to try to make puns for each player,” Boyd says. “I hope Isaac makes first line, it’s really not worth making signs for the benchwarmers.”

“I didn’t realize you cared so much about lacrosse,” Derek says.

“I don’t,” Boyd says. “But I take puns very seriously.”

 

The next home game is the night before the full moon. Erica’s nervous about being surrounded by people, but Derek has confidence in her control. Besides, she’ll be around him and Cora the whole time plus Boyd, who is the most unflappable teenager Derek has ever met. Cora had snapped her teeth at him once, fully wolfed out, and he’d just kept on eating his Doritos.

“Um, Boyd,” Erica says hesitantly, “Since you made the ‘o’ in Modesto a lacrosse ball, it kind of looks like your sign says Modest Cocks.”

“Exactly,” Boyd says happily as he finishes unrolling the sign.

Erica tilts her head upside down to read it. “Cyclones Blow Modest Cocks.” She grins. “Hey, that’s awesome.”

“Come on, Cyclones!” Cora screams. _“Tear them apart!”_

“She’s really into lacrosse, isn’t she?” Erica asks Derek.

“It really feeds into her natural bloodlust,” Derek says. “You should see her during the Super Bowl.” Derek’s every bit as bad as her during the Super Bowl, but Erica doesn’t need to know that (yet). At least Derek actually cares about which team he roots for; Cora just picks the opposite team so she can antagonize Derek all night.

Erica looks worried. “Is that a…” She glances up at the nearly-full moon. “…thing?”

“No,” Derek says with a sigh. “No, that’s just a Cora thing.”

After halftime, Cora somehow manages to lead the crowd in a rousing chant of, “COCKS SUCK! CYCLONES BLOW!” while Derek hunches as far down as he can. “We can sneak to the other end of the bleachers and pretend not to know them,” he tells Erica. “Isaac will understand.”

“Actually, it looks like Isaac’s going on the field,” Erica says.

“What?” Derek looks up from his curled up ball of eternal shame to see #14 jogging onto the field. “All right! GO ISAAC!” He starts to stand, but Cora’s cheer of, “YEAH LAHEY! BLOW THE COCKS!” sends him crashing right back down onto the bench. Isaac gets the ball a few times and passes it for the winning goal before getting slammed into the dirt, so Derek guesses it was a good game. Isaac looks thrilled, at any rate. And then he gets hauled off in one of his teammates cars for celebratory team dinner or whatever, and Cora and Boyd spend the night at Erica’s house, so Derek actually gets to go home to a peaceful house and actually sleep. It’s great.

It’s less great when he stumbles into the kitchen next morning and sees Scott making coffee. Well, he’s younger and thinner and his hair is kind of eating his head alive, but when he turns to look at Derek, time freezes. It’s him. It’s _Scott_. Derek would know him anywhere.

Then Scott squeaks and nearly drops a mug. “Hi! Good morning!” he exclaims in an incredibly high-pitched voice.

Derek blinks at him. That hair is still there. He doesn’t smell the same. And now that he’s smelling things, the coffee isn’t even burnt. That’s completely unrealistic. Maybe this is another surreal dream thing. He wonders if that makes him Jareth this time around. “What are you doing here?” It comes out ruder than he’d meant, but he really can’t be expected to function this early in the morning. Inflections are hard.

“Um, I was Isaac’s ride home and it was really late and he said it was cool if I crashed here, is that okay?” Scott says in one breath. “I’m Scott, by the way, Scott McCall. Hi. Uh. Again.” He sticks out his hand.

Derek stares at him while he takes a few minutes to process his words, and by then he’s forgotten the first half of his sentence anyway. “Whatever.”

“Um.” Scott drops his hand and instead holds out a steaming mug. “Coffee?”

It’s way too early to deal with this. Derek forgoes his usual cream and sugar and downs the mug in one searing gulp. He’s going to need the caffeine if he’s going to deal with hyper teenagers who may or may not be real and – whoa, this coffee is delicious. “Fuck me, that’s good. Oh, shit – I mean, fuck, I mean-” Derek gives up and points a finger at Scott, who still looks vaguely terrified and very young. It doesn’t even matter that Mom’s several miles away on a business trip, she probably heard him swear anyway. “You didn’t hear me swearing,” he says firmly. If he believes it hard enough, it’ll happen. That works for druids, after all. And, like, Tinkerbell, who isn’t like real fae at all but Cora cried that one time he refused to clap his hands for her, so. Believing. It works.

Scott looks indignant, which is an improvement from squeaky terror. “I’m fifteen,” he says. “I’m not an infant.”

“Okay,” Derek says, scratching idly at his stomach. Then he remembers that it’s generally impolite to scratch one’s stomach in front of company, even if they aren’t real. Then he realizes that he’s not even wearing a shirt. “Oh, damn. I’m not even dressed. I am so sorry.”

Scott seems fixated on his chest. Oh, that’s because he spilled coffee on it. Derek swipes it up with his finger, then shrugs and licks it off his hand. Scott makes another squeaky noise. “Right, I’ll just go…wear clothes,” Derek says, gesturing lamely towards the stairs. He starts to leave, then realizes that he’s still carrying around an empty mug and the possibly-not-real coffee is the best coffee he’s ever had. He holds it out sheepishly towards Scott. “Can I have some more?”

Scott’s apparently reverted back to squeaky terror, since his hands shake so badly that he splashes coffee onto Derek’s hand while he refills the mug. Well, the scalding burns feel real enough. “Shit! Sorry! I’m-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Derek says, waving the hand airily. He’s a werewolf. He’ll heal. “This is really good coffee, by the way. You should teach Isaac how to make coffee like this. He always burns it.”

“Yeah, sure,” Scott says.

Then again, Isaac’s only slightly better than Cora when it comes to kitchen stuff and he’s a slow learner. “Actually, you should just stay here and always make coffee forever.”

“Uh.”

“So Derek’ll probably wake up soo – _oh my god, Derek, what are you doing?_ ” Isaac shrieks, running across the kitchen and slapping a hand over Scott’s face.

“Why are you covering his face?” Derek asks. Well, if Isaac sees him too, then he must be real.

“Why aren’t you wearing clothes?” Isaac demands.

Derek looks down. He _is_ wearing clothes. “I _am_ wearing clothes.”

“Boxer briefs don’t count as clothes!” Isaac says hysterically. “Now, we’re practically family, so I’m used to this, but Scott doesn’t need to see that! Come on!”

Derek frowns. _Practically_ family? That’s not right. Just because Mom won’t let Isaac make the werewolf choice until he’s eighteen doesn’t mean he’s _practically_ family. “You’re not _practically_ family, Isaac,” he says.

“Why are you walking towards us, Derek, please get dressed.”

“Isaac,” Derek says, placing his free hand on Isaac’s shoulder. He kind of has to reach around Scott to do it, but that doesn’t matter. “Isaac. You _are_ family.” He wraps his arm around Isaac’s back and squeezes tightly. “I consider you my brother, Isaac. And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way about me, but I just wanted you to know that.”

“Derek,” Isaac says. “Big bro. I love you, but can you _please_ not hug my friends while you’re practically naked?”

“Huh?” Derek pulls back and realizes that he’d accidentally hugged Scott along with Isaac. And yup, there’s that squeaky terror again. “Oh. Sorry.”

“Derek. _Clothes._ ”

“Yeah, yeah.” Derek makes sure he still has his mug of coffee, then turns around and slowly ambles back to his room. It’s _so_ early.

“Is he always like that in the morning?” Scott asks faintly.

“Worse, actually,” Isaac says. “Usually whines about how I burned the coffee until he’s functional enough to make his own. Oh, fuck me, this is good coffee.”

“Slow your roll, Lahey, you better buy me dinner first.”

He’s washing shampoo out of his eyes in the shower when it hits him. He just met Scott. Scott McCall. He just met Scott. Scott is real.

“It really happened,” he breathes. “It all really happened.”

 

Derek’s reading up on banshees with a cup of tea like the secret old person he is when his Samsung Galaxy S II spits out the Kim Possible theme song. He frowns. Allison never calls, she always texts. “Allison?”

 _“Derek I hit a dog with my car and I’m at Deaton’s and there’s a light on but no one’s answering and the door’s locked do you have Deaton’s number I don’t know if he’s here and the dog’s really hurt!”_ Allison yells in one frantic breath. It takes Derek a few seconds to parse out her words. It doesn’t help that it’s pouring outside. He can hear her pounding away at the door. _“Derek are you there??”_

“Okay,” Derek says. “Yeah, I have Deaton’s number, he’s probably not there this late. Hang on, lemme look it up-”

 _“Oh, wait, I see someone coming!”_ Allison says excitedly. _“Sorry I bothered you, Derek! Have a nice night! Hi, I hit a dog with my car and-”_ The line goes dead.

“No problem,” Derek says to his phone. He puts it down, then picks it up again and sends her a text.

 **To:** Ally A, 7:06 pm

_let me know that you got home okay_

**To:** Ally A, 7:07 pm

_if i don’t hear back within half an hour i’m calling in teh cavalry_

**From:** Ally A, 7:23 pm

_yes MOM_

**From:** Ally A, 7:41 pm

_im home no worries deatons big scary dorky teen assistant didnt lay a hand on me_

**From:** Ally A, 7:41 pm

_he was kinda cute, actually_

**To:** Ally A, 7:43 pm

_NO_

**To:** Ally A, 7:44 pm

_he works for deaton he can’t be trusted_

**From:** Ally A, 7:45 pm

_wait do u kno him is he seceretly a mystic dude or w/e_

**To:** Ally A, 7:46 pm

_no i’ve never met him_

**From:** Ally A, 7:47 pm

_ur such a paranoid loser_

**From:** Ally A, 7:47 pm

_im going w him to lydias party tom :PPPPP_

**From:** Ally A, 7:48 pm

_if you dont kno him, then worst case scenario hes like a mouth-breather or w/e_

**To:** Ally A, 7:49 pm

_bring one of your ring knife things w you to the party. you never know._

**From:** Ally A, 7:49 pm

_OMFG DEREK THIS IS NOT SUNNYDALE_

Derek’s reading up on fox spirits with a cup of tea like the secret old person he is when his Samsung Galaxy S II spits out some song from High School Musical (it’s “Getcha Head In The Game,” but Derek pretends to not know that). “Isaac, if you’re drunk dialing me already, I swear-”

_“Derek, we need to go.”_

Derek looks at his phone. “It’s only 10. What the hell?”

_“Scott McCall just freaked out and ran out of here.”_

“Well.” He blinks. Teenagers freak out and run out of parties all the time. “Uh, he could’ve taken something-”

 _“Allison was with him all night, he only had like one beer!”_ Isaac protests. _“And Erica says he smelled weird.”_

Oh, shit. Derek should’ve seen this coming. He leaps down the stairs and snags his car keys as he runs out the door. “Weird how?”

 _“She says…”_ Isaac pauses, and Derek hears Erica murmur in the background. _“Kinda like you.”_

Shit. “I’ll be there in five.”

 

“We were just dancing, and then he ran out of here and just drove away,” Allison says as they pile into the Camaro.

“Okay,” Derek says. “Okay.” It’s not okay, not at all. The only alpha in town in his mom, and she hasn’t turned anyone recently. “Did you notice anything at school?”

“I don’t know,” Erica says. She looks terrified. “I didn’t – it wasn’t until he started freaking out at the party that I noticed anything. I’m sorry, I should’ve-”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Erica,” Derek says quickly. “Cora didn’t notice anything at school, either, it must be new.” Ice settles in his stomach. “Very, very new.”

“You know I’m going to have to tell my parents about this,” Allison says.

“Give me until morning,” Derek says. “I can catch him.”

“He could be halfway to the next county by now!” Allison says. “And he’s clearly out of control. How are you even going to catch up with him?”

“I’m not,” Derek says. “He’s going to come to me. Give me your jacket.”

“You’re using Allison’s scent to lure him in,” Isaac says while Allison struggles out of her jacket.

“He was with her last, he’ll have scent memory,” Derek says. “And if I combine that with a rival werewolf…”

“Werewolf catnip,” Isaac says, nodding.

The Camaro is awkwardly silent for a moment. “Um,” Allison says. “Not quite catnip, Isaac.”

“Well, I’ve never had a cat.”

Derek pulls up in front of the Argent house. “Just ‘till morning,” he tells Allison. “Then our parents will talk, okay, but let me handle this right now.”

“Okay,” Allison nods. “I’ll try.”

“So on a scale of one to oh-my-god-we’re-going-to-die,” Isaac says as Derek speeds to the house, “How bad is this?”

“A completely new werewolf, without a shred of control, and with an absent alpha that no one knows about?” Derek says. “You do the math.” The Kim Possible theme sounds throughout the car. “Isaac, answer my phone.”

“Yo,” Isaac says, tapping the speaker button.

 _“Derek, my dad’s not home,”_ Allison says. _“And he took his crossbow with him.”_

“Shit!” Derek speeds up to the house and kills the engine. “You two, stay inside. Tell my mom what’s going on, and call Cora and have her stay put with Boyd, and-”

“We got it, Derek,” Erica says, already herding Isaac inside. “Go do your scent thing.”

Derek grabs the jacket and runs into the woods.

 

The jacket trick mostly works, since Scott shows up completely wolfed-out a few minutes after Derek stashes it up a tree.

It doesn’t completely work, though, since Argent and his henchmen show up a few minutes later and pin Scott to the tree with an arrow. Well, at least Scott can’t get away while Derek talks to them. “Wait!” He runs out in front of the crossbow, hands up and completely human. “Wait. He’s just a kid.”

“He’s not part of your pack,” Chris Argent says. He doesn’t lower his crossbow. “We got news. One of the alphas down south is dead. They tracked the rogue alpha up here. He,” he points at Scott, “is probably one of its new betas. We can use him to trap it.”

“You’re not going to use him for anything,” Derek says. “Look at him. He has no idea what’s going on. He probably doesn’t even know what he is.”

Chris shakes his head. “He’s our best bet for tracking the alpha.”

“He hasn’t hurt anyone,” Derek says.

“Yet.”

“If you hurt him, that’s against your Code.”

Chris stares at him for a long moment, then lowers his crossbow with a sigh. “Fine. But I’m talking to your alpha about this. Tonight.”

“Okay,” Derek says. Distant howls echo through the town. “My pack’s on patrol. They won’t interfere with your men as long as yours do the same.”

Chris nods. “Victoria’s on her way to your house. I’ll meet up with her.” He turns back to his henchmen. “We’re done here.”

Derek waits until they’re completely gone before he turns back to Scott. “Uh…hi, Scott.”

“Derek?” Scott gasps. His chest heaves, and he looks on the brink of an asthma attack. Not that he’ll have them, anymore. “Where’s Allison? What are you doing here? What’s going on?”

“Allison’s safe at home,” Derek says. “She lent me her jacket.” He reaches slowly for the arrow. “This is going to hurt.” Scott nods and squeezes his eyes shut, but screams in pain when Derek pulls the arrow out of his arm. “Breathe. It’ll heal.”

Scott stares wide-eyed at his arm as the wound heals. “What’s happening to me?”

“You’re a werewolf, Scott,” Derek says.

_“How?”_

Derek sighs. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

 

Scott takes his newfound status as a werewolf in stride. He goes right back to school the next day and, according to Isaac, literally somersaults over the competition to make first line in lacrosse. (“I, uh, made first line, too,” he adds quietly, and smiles when Derek squeezes him in a tight hug.)

Unsurprisingly, Allison’s parents don’t want her to keep dating a werewolf. Equally unsurprisingly, Allison doesn’t listen to them at all. Derek sees her and Scott giggling together in the library more than a few times.

Derek’s secretly on Allison’s side, because of course he is, but her parents have a point. Scott’s mysterious and probably-not-so-stable alpha is still at large, despite both families hunting it, and if it forces Scott’s hand, he won’t be strong enough to disobey.

Laura leads the hunting parties and deals with Argent’s men, and Derek’s put in charge of keeping an eye on Scott at school. It consists of a lot of creepy lurking outside the building and on the edge of the lacrosse field. Paige starts eating her lunches outside with him in an attempt to make him look less creepy. “You could at least lose the leather jacket,” she says as she sits on the steps next to him and unpacks her lunch.

“If I have to restrain Scott, I’m not going to do it wearing a _sweater_ ,” Derek argues. “And if I don’t wear sleeves, the kids all stare at me.”

“That’s because your arms are unreal,” Paige says, offering him a carrot stick. He crunches on it moodily. “I think it’s nice that you’re trying your hardest to let Scott have a mostly normal life in spite of it all.”

“He’s just a kid, he deserves it,” Derek says. “I was born this way and I still got to have a normal life.”

“Yeah, you’re all boring and old now,” Paige says fondly. “Oh, one of my trumpets wanted me to give you this.” She holds up a folded piece of paper. “However, statutory rape is illegal, so I won’t be passing it along.”

Derek eyes it warily. “Please don’t tell me it’s a phone number.”

“It’s a phone number.” Derek sighs. “It’s the only one I got, at least?” Paige tries. “I think it’s just because Danny’s going through a rough patch with the boyfriend at the moment.”

“That sucks,” Derek says. “Especially with the winter formal coming up. What if they don’t get back together in time and Danny’s left without a date?” He raises his eyebrows in a fake pout.

Paige swats his arm. “Don’t mock. You weren’t a teenager _that_ long ago. You’re chaperoning, right?”

“I have to, Scott’s going with Allison. Or,” he rolls his eyes, “Allison’s going with Jackson and Scott’s going stag and then they’re going to dance with each other all night anyway.”

“Ah, young love,” Paige says. “Can I trust you to dress yourself?”

“I’m just a chaperone,” Derek says. Paige stares at him. “I’ll check my outfit with Devon.”

“Good boy.”

 

“Coach made Scott co-captain,” Isaac says. “Jackson’s pretty pissed about it. I think he thinks Scott’s on ‘roids.”

“Whatever.” Derek shrugs. Jackson’s an asshole. He double parks everywhere and he makes fun of kids who take the bus. Boyd’s had to hold Cora back from beating his face in more than a few times.

“So you’re not worried about Jackson poking the proverbial hornets’ nest and figuring out the werewolf thing?”

He snorts. “I seriously don’t think he’s intelligent or crazy enough to put that together.”

 

Not only does Jackson manage to figure out the werewolf thing, he also drop-kicks the goddamn hornets’ nest.

“To be fair, everyone who’s read a periodic table knows that my last name means silver,” Allison says as they jog through the woods. “And Lydia told him about that time I tried to teach her archery in the woods.”

“I really didn’t think he had it in him,” Derek says. “That seriously takes an unholy blend of intelligence and…batshit insanity.”

Allison says, “Well.” It’s a pretty good summary of the current state of things. It started with Jackson badgering Derek for the bite for the past few days, and now it’s ending with Derek and Allison running out of the winter formal and into the woods after him. Allison’s still wearing her dress. This is ridiculous. “Sheesh, he trampled through here like a drunk cow.”

Derek remembers seeing Jackson tucking a flask into his jacket at the dance. “He probably _is_ drunk.” He frowns as he picks up a new scent that smells vaguely familiar yet completely new. “Did-”

A scream rips through the air. It’s high, piercing, and echoes impossibly loudly through Derek’s skull. “Did you hear that?” Allison says, glancing around in shock.

“It came from the field,” Derek says. “Come on!”

“But what about-”

“That was a banshee,” Derek says. “Something terrible is about to happen, and we need to get there _now_.” He’s nearly out of the woods when he hears an anguished howl. “Allison, _Scott_ -”

“Go!” He morphs into his beta form and sprints onto the field. The banshee is nowhere in sight, but he barely registers Lydia and Stiles huddled over a body on the edge of the field before he sees Scott wolfed out and grappling with the alpha. It’s in its full wolf form, but its body is warped like something out of a horror movie. It’s a monster. Derek charges forward with a roar as it raises a clawed hand and slashes Scott across the chest.

It feels like colliding with a freight train. He somehow manages to gather enough momentum to force the alpha back from the kids, but it throws him off easily. He leaps for it again, digging his paltry claws into its neck. It grabs him by the leg and slams him into the ground. Derek spits out a mouthful of dirt and blearily wonders if this is what it feels like to have his brain rattling around his skull. The alpha cages his neck in its massive claws, ready to tear his spinal cord to shreds. “Don’t move,” it rumbles.

Derek’s leg throbs. He thinks it might be completely torn out of its socket, and he can’t reach down to pop it back in. “Couldn’t even if I wanted to,” he coughs out.

“Derek!” That’s Laura’s voice, and he can sense their mother with her. He tries to raise his head to look for them, but the alpha presses a single claw into the back of his skull and keeps him immobile. “Don’t move,” the alpha repeats. Derek hears footsteps come to halt a few feet away.

“Peter,” Mom says in a voice filled with sorrow. “Brother, why?”

The clawed hand holding Derek down doesn’t move, but he hears the creaking of bones above him and a human knee presses into his back. He gasps in shock and ends up inhaling a mouthful of dirt. “Dear sister,” Uncle Peter says. “Have I finally managed to catch you by surprise?”

“Your conflict is with me, not your nephew,” Mom says. “Let Derek go.”

“I don’t think so,” Uncle Peter says, using his free hand to ruffle Derek’s hair like he used to when they were young. “Your _son_ is exactly where I want him to be. And you even brought me your _daughter_ to complete the set.”

Mom is silent for several seconds, and all Derek can hear is Scott’s harsh breathing. He hopes he’ll be okay. “How did you find out?” she finally asks.

“It was the fire,” Uncle Peter says. “That dear, dear fire. I ought to send little Kate a fruit basket as a thank-you for putting that extra _oomph_ into it. Knocked loose a few memories I didn’t even know I’d had. Were you ever going to tell me, Talia?”

“I did it because you refused to listen to reason,” Mom says, as close to anger as Derek has ever heard her. “She _begged_ me for help, she was so terrified of you.”

“And you chose a complete stranger over your own family!” Uncle Peter roars.

“I chose to protect a young girl who needed my protection!” Mom roars back. “You were never going to let her go. You wanted to force her to take the bite!”

“The bite is a gift!”

“It’s not a gift if you force it on them,” Mom says coldly. “She needed my help, so I helped her.”

“You had _no right_ -”

“I had every right,” Mom snaps. “I was your alpha. You are my brother. I did what would be best for everyone.”

“You took my children from me!” Uncle Peter howls. “You took my _son,_ and you took my _daughter_. And you were going to pretend as if they’d never existed, but you underestimated me, Talia. I’ve found my son, and he’s mine now.”

“What?” Derek croaks. Scott is Uncle Peter’s son? Scott is Derek’s _cousin?_ That doesn’t make any sense, it—

“Yes, Derek,” Uncle Peter drawls. “He’s been under your very nose all these years, and your mother knew. But I’ll be looking after him now. He’ll be a _true_ werewolf.”

He hears Laura step forward. “You’re not going anywhere with him.”

“Ah, wrong werewolf, dear niece,” Uncle Peter says. “Although he will be coming with me as well. Good to keep some competition around for my children, you know.”

 _“What?”_ Derek rasps. Competition? He’s completely lost, now. If Scott isn’t Peter’s son, then who the hell are they talking about?

He hears a faint groan and shuffling on the grass. “Jackson!” Lydia shrieks.

Oh, no. “Oh, no,” he groans. He’s related to _Jackson?_

“Not to worry, Lydia, he’s all right,” Uncle Peter says. “It’s in his blood, after all.”

“He’s bleeding,” Lydia protests.

“Just gave him a few new memories,” Uncle Peter says. “You can’t just believe someone when they tell you they’re your father, after all.” He snorts. “Common sense.”

“You killed _Thomas_ ,” Laura snarls. “You decimated his pack. You abandoned _us_. You’re not taking anyone anywhere.”

“I’d like to see you stop me,” Uncle Peter says. “I really would, dear niece. But unfortunately for you and Derek, your mother and I have a score to settle.”

“Peter,” Mom says. He can hear the barest of tremors in her voice. “This is between us. No one else.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Uncle Peter says, clucking his tongue chidingly. “This was never just between us. My daughter is still out there, so bring her to me and we’re even. However,” Derek feels the claws lift away from his neck, and his bloods run cold. “You never did give my son a choice when you took him from me. So I don’t think I’ll be giving your son a choice, either.”

Derek doesn’t hear Laura scream, too overwhelmed by the pain of Uncle Peter’s claws stabbing into his back and out through his chest. Blood pounds through his ears. He can’t feel anything but the white-hot burning through his middle as Uncle Peter raises him like a puppet to meet his mother’s horrified face. He tries to speak, but blood gushes out of his mouth and chokes him into silence.

His vision blurs. He can’t make out anything but a faint whistling past his cheek, followed by a bright flash and Uncle Peter’s shriek of rage. He’s floating, falling, resting on a soft cloud. It feels so warm, and he’s so cold. Shouts echo around him, but they’re so far away that it doesn’t matter.

A soft hand cups his face, and something dark and blurry wobbles in front of him. “-be okay, Derek,” the voice says. Scott. That’s Scott. “Listen to me. You’re going to be okay.” Derek strains to see his face, but all he can make out are his glowing yellow eyes, bleeding into the rest of his face and staining orange. His own eyelids feel so heavy. “Stay with me, Derek!” he roars.

In the space between heartbeats, Derek can feel again. The grass is slippery beneath his hands, and Scott’s legs are warm under his shoulders, and Scott’s face is bright and sharp. He smells blood thick in the air and tastes it dribbling out of his mouth, and he can hear his sister – “I have to.” Then his heart thuds again, and everything fades away.

The last things he sees are Scott’s eyes, shining red as blood.

 

“Owwww,” Derek groans, and then immediately wishes he hadn’t. Actually, he would like to redo this entire return to consciousness. Talking was a bad choice. Noise in general was a bad choice. His mouth tastes terrible, like that time Laura had dared him to eat an entire rabbit raw. Bloody and furry. That’s what it tastes like. At least he’s lying on something fluffy.

“Oh my god, _Derek!_ ”

Derek moans piteously as the shriek ricochets around his head. Why is _Cora_ of all people on bedside duty? He braces himself for her jump onto the bed, but instead he hears a series of thuds before a door creaks open. “He’s awake!” Cora yells. There’s more thuds, and then – yup, there she goes jumping onto the bed. His stomach bounces into his throat and his brain rattles in his skull. “Derek, can you open your eyes?”

“No.” His eyes feel glued shut, and he can already feel the bright lights burning through his lids. He runs a tongue over his teeth and tries not to gag. “Noooooo.”

“Great, you’re loopy,” Cora gripes. “I _told_ Scott he was going overkill with the pain drain, but why listen to a werewolf with way more experience than him? He’s coming up with food, so you should probably open your eyes so you don’t drool all over yourself.”

“I already did that,” Derek says. He doesn’t remember much about what happened last…whenever…night, but he definitely remembers a copious amount of blood drool. More like a blood water fountain. Blood fountain.

“Yeah,” Cora says shakily. “Don’t…don’t do that again, okay? You scared us.”

“You’re never scared.”

“Well, I was scared then,” Cora says, petting his head. It feels strangely soothing. “Don’t get used to it, this is a one-time thing.” Is he saying all of this out loud? “Yes, you are.” Oh. “C’mon, Derek, open your eyes.” He cracks his eyes open and immediately regrets it, throwing an arm over his face to shield from the evil sunlight – and clocking Cora in the head, she can deal – and yowling like a wet cat.

“Um,” Scott’s voice says. “Sorry, I’ll leave.”

“He’s just being a big baby,” Cora says. She gently pulls his arm away and arranges a pair of sunglasses over his eyes. “There. Better?”

Sepia is _wonderful_. “Thanks, sis.” She smiles down at him fondly, and he scrunches his nose. “You’re not gonna, like, kiss my forehead or anything, right?”

“Ew.” She pinches his nose instead. Scott’s eyebrows vanish into his hairline as he quickly sets the tray down, probably worrying about Derek accidentally suffocating. He’s just not used to Cora yet.

“Where’s Mom and Laura?”

“They’re, um.” Cora glances at the door. “Well, Mom should be back from the police station soon. And Laura’s – downstairs. There’s…” She presses her lips together and her eyes look suspiciously bright. “A lot of things have changed.”

“Changed how?” Derek asks.

“Mom said it’ll be easier if we discuss it all at once,” Cora says. “Um. But you should eat first and get some of your strength back.” She tilts the bowl towards him. “Look! Chicken and dumplings, your favorite!”

Now that Derek notices the food, it smells delicious. His mouth waters. “Who made it?”

Cora and Scott glance at each other nervously. “Well, Mom was at the station all night,” Cora begins. Oh, no. If Cora made it, he’s going to have to figure out a way to not eat it without hurting her feelings.

“So, uh, I made it?” Scott finishes. “Laura gave me your mom’s recipe, it’s probably not as good, but-”

“I bet it tastes great,” Derek says immediately. His chest feels weird and creaky when he sits up, but it’s just a dull ache. He picks up the steaming bowl and takes a mouthful. “Oh, fuck me,” he groans, then points his spoon at Scott. “You didn’t hear me swear.”

“Uh, okay,” Scott says. “So…does it taste okay?”

Derek swallows a dumpling. “It tastes _great_ ,” he says sincerely. Scott beams. Cora rolls her eyes.

 

“So apparently, Malia and Jackson are our cousins, now,” Cora says.

Derek and Jackson look at each other, say “Ew,” in perfect unison, and then immediately regret everything. Malia and Cora roll their eyes. “Wow, you really _are_ related,” Stiles says.

“What’s he doing here?” Derek asks Cora, jerking his thumb at Stiles.

“Hey, what’s Scott’s business is my business,” Stiles says. “If Scott’s in weird pack limbo with Jackson of all people, then so am I.” He looks slightly nauseated. “Although I’d like to state for the record that being in anything with Jackson makes me deeply uncomfortable.”

“That makes two of us,” Derek mutters.

Jackson glares at the entire room and somehow manages to make Derek feel targeted. “Look, I’m not any happier about this than you are,” he says. “In fact, I’d appreciate a little more sympathy here. I just found out my birth parents are dead!”

“So did I,” Malia says peevishly. “But you don’t see me whining about it.”

“You didn’t get bit and then kidnapped into his pack!”

“You asked him for the bite!”

“Wow,” Stiles says as the two bicker. “They really are siblings. Hey, if Peter was a werewolf, how did Malia end up a coyote? I mean,” he laughs, “That’s pretty weird.”

Their heads whip in unison to glare at Stiles. “You trying to say something about my sister?” Jackson demands, leaping to his feet.

Stiles flails backwards towards Derek. He leans back and lets him fall to the floor, ignoring the disappointed half-glare Scott sends his way. “Dude, you just found out she was your sister like five minutes ago!”

“That’s right, just dig your grave deeper,” Malia mutters. She shoves Jackson down with a hand on his chest. “Calm down, Jackson. I don’t get the werewolf thing, either.”

“Yeah, listen to your sister, Jackson,” Stiles says.

Derek can’t say he’s surprised when Malia socks him in the stomach. “Violence,” he says halfheartedly while Stiles wheezes in a ball on the floor.

“What?” Malia says. “He’s really annoying.”

 

“Everything’s a mess,” Derek groans. He’s maybe whining a little, but he’s not exaggerating at all. Everything really is a mess. His uncle almost killed him and now he’s related to Jackson goddamn Whittemore. (He’s fine with being related to Malia, as long as the twins don’t come along.) He’s earned his right to whine.

“There, there.” Paige pets his head soothingly. “Everything will work out.”

“No, they won’t,” he grumbles into his arms. He can practically hear Paige’s exasperation above him.

It’s been a rough couple of weeks. First there had been Jackson and his idiotic werewolf bite and Mom sorting through all the godawful memories Uncle Peter had planted into his brain, and then there had been Uncle Peter’s funeral and all the police reports and journalists and they’d all had to wear dumb sunglasses so no one could get a picture of their eyes, and then there had been Laura, watching his face carefully while she let her eyes bleed red and explain to him that, no, Derek, she can’t stay here anymore.

“Riley’s pack is in tatters, and they need an alpha,” she’d said. “And Peter took Thomas’ alpha status, and I took Peter’s. I have a responsibility to them. I’m sorry, Derek, I didn’t want to do this to the family. You understand, right?”

He understands, in an objective sort of way. She inherited the alpha status for the Leon pack. They’re her pack now. Derek and Cora and her mother – Laura can’t be part of their mother’s pack anymore. He even sort of understands in a familial sort of way. Peter was going to stop at nothing to kill Derek and Laura, and he needed to be stopped. Neither of them would’ve wanted their mother to have to kill her baby brother.

But it still hurts. Laura doesn’t live just ten minutes away. He can’t just show up at the car shop and whine at her about his problems. She lives nearly three hours away, now, and he can’t call her whenever he wants – not when she’s a new alpha taking care of a new pack. They’d had to bury Uncle Peter; Laura’s new pack has to bury three of their own.

And quietly, selfishly…he’s terrified. He’s the eldest Hale, now. He’ll become the alpha if something happens to their mother. That’s a role he was never trained for or meant to have, and…he’s terrified. He can’t lead a pack. He can already see the power shifts amongst his cousins. Aaron left to be with Laura’s pack, and Belladonna seems wary of him. They don’t trust his authority as an alpha, and he doesn’t blame them. He was always meant to be second-in-command, never to lead. But now he has no choice.

“You still with me, Derek?” Paige asks. She hasn’t stopped stroking his head; she’s always understood him better than anyone else.

He takes a deep breath and lifts his head. He can’t whine anymore. Mom’s gone with Laura to help smooth the transition with her new pack; she won’t be back for weeks. Derek needs to lead. “Allison’s friend, Lydia,” he says. “Turns out she’s a banshee. Unc – Peter – triggered her powers. I gave her the file I made from Un – the house’s library, but.” It’s not so much a file as it is a two-inch binder filled to the brim with documents and summaries so cross-referenced that even Brooke had deemed it “a bit much,” but it’s still all theory and no practice.

Paige nods. “I’ll talk to Gabe. He’ll be thrilled to hear that he’s not the only one anymore. It can get lonely when no one understands what you’re going through, no matter how hard they try.”

“Thanks, Paige,” he says. “You know, the three of us should get together sometime. I haven’t gotten my third wheel on in _months_.”

Paige smiles and knocks her head against his shoulder. “You’re going to be okay, Derek. And I’m always going to be here for you; you know that, right? Anytime you need to talk, or cry, or be an immature little shithead again…”

“I wasn’t _that_ bad,” Derek protests.

“You were pretty bad,” Paige says. “I’m glad you’re growing up, but you don’t have to grow up too fast. You’ve got people looking out for you.”

Derek tries not to think about Scott traveling back in time for him and how badly he’s screwed everything up. “I know.”

He runs into Julia Bacari on his way out of the café. “Hey, Derek!” she says cheerfully. “Fancy meeting you here!”

“Yeah,” he says slowly. “Fancy that. Did you just happen to be in the neighborhood, too?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Julia says. “Marin Morrell’s a good friend of mine, and it’s been a while since I’ve seen her so I decided to come up for a week or two.”

“Really.”

“Yes, really,” Julia says. She sighs exasperatedly. “Derek, did you really think your mother would just leave you in charge with no one to help you? You’re just a kid.”

“I’m twenty-three years old.”

“And I’m twenty-seven years old,” Julia retorts. “But more importantly, I’ve been leading my pack for the past six years. You have no idea what you’re doing, and that’s okay, because nothing you know could have prepared you for this. That’s why I’m here.”

He crosses his arms. “Wouldn’t it be better for another werewolf to be here?” he asks. “Since my alpha and her second both left, and I’m completely new at this and all.”

“I’m not here to step on your toes, Derek,” Julia says. “You call the shots, you run the show. I’m just a safety net so that just in case anything goes wrong, I can keep it from spreading. And if you want guidance, I can help with that, too.”

“I can handle it.”

“I know you can,” she says gently; he knows she doesn’t mean to sound patronizing, but he bristles all the same. “But it’s okay to ask for help.” She pushes the door to the café open. “You know where to find me.”

 

 _“So why’d you get sent back here?” Derek asks. Maybe it’s different in the future, but Derek’s always been under the impression that time travel was kind of a big deal and only happened for big things, like saving the world or the future of humanity or – “Whoa, am I, like, a big deal in the future? Am I like John Connor? Wait, am I like_ Sarah Connor? _”_

_Scott blinks at him. “You’d rather be the mother of the savior of the human race than the actual savior of the human race?” he asks finally._

_“Hey, Sarah Connor’s amazing,” Derek says. “Besides, she made John Connor who he was, you know, she took care of him all on her own and she helped him become this big hero in the future. That’s the more important role, the way I see it.”_

_“Huh,” Scott says, watching him curiously. “Well, I hate to break it to you, but I’m not your Kyle Reese.”_

_“Why would you want to be Kyle Reese?” Derek snorts. “He fell in love with a photograph and died. So, is Terminator 3 going to-”_

_“I’m not telling you.”_

 

He’s screwing _everything_ up. He wants to run away and throw up and travel forward in time to ask Scott for advice. But he can’t, because Scott is standing right in front of him with dumb hair and expecting words of wisdom. “Black goo?” he repeats weakly. “Black goo started dripping out of Jackson’s nose?”

Scott nods. “I think Danny noticed and he probably thinks something’s up, but more importantly, uh, black goo.”

“Okay.” Okay, he can do this. “Um, okay.” This room is terribly ventilated. Why is he getting so lightheaded.

“Okay, um, let’s sit,” Scott says like he’s talking down a rabid dog. He’s not that far off, really. “So, uh, you said you’ve been building a file on werewolf transformations gone wrong, right?”

“Yeah,” Derek says, staring down at the living room floor and trying to get his lungs to work properly. He did start a file on abnormal transformations, absolutely for reference purposes and definitely not in a fit of paranoia over Peter and his own fears. The file is an inch-and-a-half thick and has only resulted in Derek becoming _more_ anxious about his future as an alpha. Boyd has been trying to help him with the readings, but he usually just ends up helping Derek breathe into a paper bag while he tucks his head between his knees. “I don’t remember anything about black goo, though.”

“Well, ‘black goo’ isn’t the best description to begin with,” Lydia says, frowning at Scott like it was his fault that Jackson got a freak nosebleed when she wasn’t around to see. “And your banshee file was really helpful, so this one should be a good starting point.”

“I only based it off the books in modern languages,” Derek says. “There’s a bunch in archaic Latin-”

“Perfect, I can read archaic Latin,” Lydia says, already following Boyd into the library. “Did you set them aside? I can start with those while you work on the other ones.”

Derek blinks after her. “Yes,” Scott says, “She _is_ always like that.”

“I can barely even speak Spanish,” Derek says faintly.

“Me neither,” Scott says. “I’m this close to failing. It’s really embarrassing.”

“Oh,” Derek says. “I can tutor you, if you want.”

“That’d be awesome!” Scott says eagerly. “Stiles is taking German and Allison’s taking French, so they can’t help me. Well, Danny could, but I feel like he’s silently judging me on my incompetency.”

“Derek!” Lydia yells. “Where are the books!”

Boyd yells, “Should I get more paper bags?”

 

 _“Heyyy buddy!”_ Stiles’ slightly tinny and no less annoying voice chirps out of his Samsung Galaxy S II. Derek knew he shouldn’t have answered. Malia makes a disgusted face next to him and reaches for another Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup.

“Why are you calling me,” he demands, too annoyed to bother with proper inflections. He’s up to his ears in research, he doesn’t have time for this. Malia rolls her eyes next to him. “How do you even have my number?”

 _“Scott,”_ Stiles says, like that explains everything. _“And since Lydia’s out with Jackson, Scott decided to take Allison out while her family looks for that missing hunter, and waiting for car repairs is really boring and I had no one to talk to so I figure, hey, why not get to know Scott’s creepy old wolfbrother or whatever? Maybe he’s secretly a marshmallow, who knows.”_

“I’m not a marshmallow,” Derek says, baffled. “And I’m not old.”

“Yes, you are,” Malia says.

Stiles cackles into his phone. _“Ha! You just admitted you’re creepy!”_ Derek hears the clattering of a chair falling over and a very loud thud. _“Anyway,”_ Stiles, continues, slightly out of breath, _“You know we can help you with the research, right? Like, I am_ so _good at the research, okay, I figured out the werewolf thing before Scott did.”_

“You also thought I ate Allison after Lydia’s party.”

 _“Ate, kidnapped, I mean, it’s all the same thing, right?”_ Stiles says. _“But seriously, man, you don’t have to this yourself. Like, we can help. Scott’s – uh.”_

“Scott’s uh what?” Derek parrots mockingly, leaning back in his chair and ignoring Malia’s eye roll. He frowns and sits up when Stiles doesn’t respond. “Stiles?”

 _“I think I’m paralyzed,”_ Stiles says. _“Yeah, I can’t move my hand. I can’t move – oh my god, Derek, I can’t move. I don’t know what’s-”_

“Stay on the line,” Derek says, chair clattering to the floor. “Call our cousins!” he barks at Malia as he runs out the door. He forgoes the car and sprints for the car shop as fast as he can. “Stiles, do not hang-”

Stiles screams. _“There’s something outside!”_

Derek bursts into the car shop four minutes later to screams and the car lift echoing throughout the dark garage. He runs forward, pulls a paralyzed Tucker out from underneath the lift before it crushes him, and backs into the corner, staring frantically all over the garage. “Ceiling!” Tucker shrieks.

He looks up and sees – a lizard? A giant humanoid lizard with a long tail and dripping claws. Lydia’s scream rips through the air and startles all three of them. Derek recovers first, shoving Tucker behind a Toyota Camry and diving out of the way as the lizard swipes down. He rolls to his feet and runs around a Toyota FJ Cruiser as the lizard stalks towards him. It rears up, and then – and then it sees itself in the Toyota’s wide side-view mirrors and runs out of the garage and into the night.

“Dude,” Tucker gasps. “What just happened?”

Derek crouches down next to him. “No offense,” he says, and knocks his head against the bumper. He slumps down with a groan. Derek straightens and follows Stiles’ muffled screams to the office. The doorknob is slick with some sort of clear liquid, so he grabs a mostly clean rag and wipes it off before using it to open the door.

 _“What the fuck?!”_ Stiles shrieks from the floor. “What the _actual fuck_ just happened? Is the freaky man-lizard gone? Is the mechanic guy okay? What the fuck kind of murder lizard sets up a car to slowly crush a guy to death? _What took you so long?_ ”

“You’re welcome,” Derek says as he carefully wipes the liquid from the other doorknob. “Are you okay?” Stiles opens his mouth. “Physically, I mean. Aside from the paralysis.”

Stiles shuts his mouth and blinks furiously. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Okay.” Derek walks past him and into the kitchen to find a container for the rag.

 _“Where are you going?”_ Stiles shrieks. Derek walks back into the office and makes a big show of dropping the rag into the Macy’s plastic bag before folding it and tucking it into his jacket. “What was that?”

“I don’t know, but it was all over the doorknob,” Derek says. “Did you touch that before you became paralyzed?”

“I-” Stiles thinks. “Yes, okay, I heard the mechanic screaming and didn’t think to check the doorknob for paralytic _goop_ before I went to help him. And you still haven’t answered me about the freaky man-lizard.”

“It’s gone,” Derek says. “My cousins should be tracking it by now.”

Stiles makes a face. “But Belladonna and Johanna are scary.”

“Get over it,” Derek says. “We-”

Scott, Allison, and Lydia charge into the office. “Jackson’s gone!” Allison announces.

“Weren’t you supposed to be watching him?” Stiles says, glaring accusingly at Derek. “Derek, turn me around so I can glare at Lydia.” Derek complies. “Weren’t you supposed to be watching him?”

“I _was_ ,” Lydia snaps. “We were at a restaurant, and then he went to the bathroom, and then I sent Danny to go check on him-”

“Why’d you bring Danny along on your date?” Stiles asks.

“-and then I went to go check on _both_ of them and Danny was freaking _paralyzed_ on the floor and the window was open and Jackson was gone!” Lydia finishes.

“So why did you scream?” Derek asks. “And how did you know we were here?”

“Scott tracked Stiles’ scent,” Allison says.

“And I tried calling you,” Lydia adds. “But neither of you were answering your phones.”

“Oh.” Derek belatedly pulls out his Samsung Galaxy S II and ends his call with Stiles. “Sorry.”

“I’m not,” Stiles gripes. “I was pretty busy getting _paralyzed_ and terrorized by a freaky man-lizard with a tail.”

“Don’t all lizards have tails?” Scott asks, because that’s clearly the important part of this conversation.

“Okay, so Jackson is a…freaky man-lizard,” Allison says delicately, patting Scott’s arm, “And he just tried to kill the mechanic because…he…uh…doesn’t…like mechanics.”

“Maybe he hates cars,” Stiles suggests. “Also, can we please get out of here? It’s dark and I thought I was going to die so many times tonight.”

“What about the mechanic?” Scott asks.

“I knocked him out,” Derek says. “The paralysis is temporary. As long as we turn the lights on when we leave, he’ll think he just knocked himself out against a car or something.”

“Okay,” Scott says, “But I meant more about his safety from the murderous Jackson-lizard.”

“My cousins are tracking Jackson,” Derek says.

Allison perks up. “Ooh, Belladonna? She’s awesome.”

“Yeah, but what about the mechanic?” Scott asks.

Allison finishes sending a text and holds up her Samsung Captivate. “My dad’s sending men over to patrol the area.”

Derek nods. “Let’s go, then.”

 

They’re crammed into Scott’s mom’s Chevrolet – Stiles is still half-paralyzed and sprawled awkwardly across Derek and Allison’s laps since Lydia apparently doesn’t believe in sitting in the backseat – when Scott says, “Guys. What about Danny?”

“I called an ambulance, he’s at the hospital,” Lydia says. “He should be fine.”

“Okay,” Scott says, “But I meant more about the fact that his best friend knocked him out in a bathroom. How are we going to explain that?”

“Don’t forget paralyzed,” Allison adds unhelpfully. Scott makes a face at her in the rear-view mirror, and she makes one back. Damn, they’re adorable together, even just making dumb faces at each other’s reflections. Reflections. Wait.

“Wait.” Derek reaches out and grabs the nearest thing, which happens to be Stiles’ leg. Oh, well. It could’ve been worse.

“Uh,” Stiles says.

“I think I know what Jackson is,” Derek says. “When he attacked me, he didn’t run away until he looked into a car’s mirror.”

“Maybe he realized how butt-ugly he was and ran away from shame,” Stiles says.

“Then why don’t you run away from shame every time _you_ look in the mirror?” Lydia asks sweetly.

Stiles gasps and mostly succeeds at clutching his chest. “That hurts, Lydia. That really does.”

“He’s a kanima,” Derek says before Lydia can retort and derail the conversation even further. He hopes he wasn’t this annoying when he was their age. “The claws secrete paralytic venom.”

“Oh, I remember reading about that,” Lydia says. “They’re creatures of vengeance. And they, uh…” She taps her chin and frowns at the ceiling. “‘Seek a master,’ whatever that means.”

“A creature of vengeance seeking a master?” Allison says. “So Jackson’s a slave to the vendetta of some creep?”

“Basically,” Derek says uncomfortably. “And we have no idea who the creep is.”

Stiles squirms and accidentally kicks Derek in the face. Derek liked him better when he was still paralyzed. “I got it!” he says. “Matt Daehler from lacrosse. He’s a total creep.”

“You just don’t like him because he won’t sit next to you on the bench,” Scott says.

“Plus, he’s a teenager,” Derek says dismissively. “I don’t think our vendetta master is a _teenager_.”

“He stalks Allison everywhere and takes creepy stalker pictures of her!” Stiles says. “I looked at his camera once. His photos are like 90% Allison.”

The Chevrolet is silent. “Okay,” Derek says. “That _is_ creepy.”

“But then wouldn’t he send the kani – Jackson – after me?” Allison asks. “I’ve never even seen the mechanic before in my life.”

“So we need to find Jackson and keep him hidden until we find his creepy master,” Lydia says. “This better not affect my GPA. Wait, why are we at the hospital?”

“Danny, remember?” Scott says, pulling into a parking space and killing the engine. “What the hell are we going to tell him?” No one responds. “Wow, don’t all volunteer at once.”

“I got it!” Stiles says, shooting upright. “Hey, I can move again!”

“I’m happy for you, buddy,” Scott says sincerely. He even reaches back to squeeze his shoulder. “Now, what’s your plan?”

“We send Derek in to talk to him!” Stiles says.

“Okay, that’s a good start,” Scott says. “Then what does Derek tell him?”

Stiles frowns. “I dunno, nothing probably. Danny will be so distracted by Derek’s ungodly beauty that he’ll forget everything anyway.”

“That is the worst idea I have ever heard,” Derek says flatly.

“Ungodly beauty?” Allison repeats, looking vaguely disturbed. He doesn’t blame her.

“Maybe you should take your shirt off, too,” Stiles tells him. “You’ll probably get better results that way.”

“No one is taking their shirt off,” Scott says firmly. The effect is slightly ruined by his voice squeaking hilariously on the word “shirt,” but Derek nods approvingly. “ _I_ will talk to Danny, and, uh…” He trails off and frowns. “I’ll just make something up. No one move.” He climbs out of the car and stalks determinedly to the hospital entrance before anyone can protest.

The Chevrolet beeps, and the locks slide down. “He took the keys,” Lydia says faintly.

“Your best friend just locked us inside his car,” Derek says to Stiles. “What the _hell_.”

“Hey, he’s also _her_ boyfriend,” Stiles protests, pointing at Allison. “And he’s _your_ pack-brother-wolf thing!”

Derek’s Samsung Galaxy S II buzzes, and he taps the speakerphone. “Scott, what?”

 _“Yeah, hi, this is Danny,”_ a dry and vaguely amused voice says. _“Just FYI, I know about werewolves.”_

“What did you do to Scott?” Stiles asks. “Did you kill Scott? I know where you live, Danny, I will-”

“He didn’t kill Scott, Stiles,” Derek says, rubbing his temples. Great, _another_ teenager to deal with. “They’re outside.”

The locks pop back up, and Scott opens the driver’s side. “Sorry about that,” he says, and actually sounds slightly apologetic about it. “So, we’re giving Danny a ride home.”

“No.” Derek climbs out of the backseat and glares at him. He points at Danny. “ _You_ are telling your parents that you’re staying over at Lydia’s, and we are _all_ going back to my house.”

“He’s totally not a pedophile serial killer rapist, I swear,” Stiles says, sticking his head out the door. “I did a background check and everything.”

“…Thanks, Stiles,” Danny says awkwardly. “I didn’t actually think that, but, thanks.”

Derek closes his eyes briefly. “Just. Get in the car.”

“Uh,” Stiles and Danny look at each other and seem to come to the same conclusion. “It’s gonna be kinda crowded.”

“I can, uh, sit on someone’s lap,” Danny volunteers with an entirely unsubtle glance at Derek.

Lydia smirks at them from the front seat. “You are so shameless.”

Allison takes one for the team and sits on Derek’s lap. Scott spends the entire drive glancing at them in the rear-view mirror every ten seconds and twice as often during red lights. “Scott,” Derek says firmly. “I have known Allison for the past seven years and she is basically a sister to me. And my hands are nowhere near your girlfriend’s person.” He lifts his hands so they’re visible in the mirror; his right hand accidentally brushes Danny’s cheek, and the boy immediately blushes. Derek hates everything.

 

Belladonna Hale captures the kanima with terrifying efficiency – which is to say that she corrals him across rooftops into an abandoned building on the edge of town and pins him to the floor. “Was that really necessary?” Derek asks when he catches up to her, teenagers in tow. Danny at least had stayed at the house with Cora, but the rest had insisted on coming like the self-endangering idiots they are.

She lowers her bow. “Its venom is paralytic, and it’ll recover once I pull the arrows out. You think I _shouldn’t_ have shot it from a distance?”

“I meant the five extra arrows you shot into him,” Derek says. The arrow punching through the kanima’s back and deep into the cement floor is one thing, but the ones pinning down each limb and even its tail seem a little like overkill. Belladonna shrugs.

“Hi, Belladonna,” Allison breathes, staring at her bow with badly-concealed awe. Belladonna hands it over with a smirk.

“Wait, werewolves use bows?” Stiles asks. “Isn’t that kinda…” He glances at Allison, running her hands over Belladonna’s bow reverently. “…you know.”

“Ranged attacks are still important,” Belladonna says, sharing a superior smirk with Allison. “And it’s too heavy for humans to use. Werewolf archers only, so basically just me.” Her LG phone beeps. “Johanna’s on her way with Julia Bacari.”

“Bacari?” Scott asks. “Isn’t that-”

“Our babysitter from the pack in Berkeley, yes, that’s the one,” Derek says with a sigh. “Is Johanna fangirling?”

Belladonna scrolls through her phone. “Apparently, Julia let her help with the locator spell to find that one’s master.” She jerks her chin at the kanima, still writhing and hissing uselessly on the floor. “Yeah, she’s fangirling.”

“She found the master?” Allison asks, at the same time that Lydia perks up with, “Locator spell?”

“That’s good, right, that means we can break whatever hold the master has on Jackson and no one else has to die, right?” Scott says. He glances between Derek and Belladonna. “Right?”

“Wrong,” Julia says as she swans into the building, Johanna trotting behind her with a body flung over her shoulder. “The bond between master and kanima can’t be broken.” She raises an eyebrow when she sees the kanima on the floor. “Looks like someone got a little trigger-happy.”

“Am I the only one with enough self-preservation to _not_ want to get up close and personal with its venom?” Belladonna demands. “I tried knocking it out, it didn’t work.”

Julia bends next to the kanima’s head, ignoring his bared fangs as she gently blows a handful of powder into his face. He drops unconscious instantly, and she pulls the arrows out of his body as he fades back into his human form. “Isn’t she amazing?” Johanna sighs. She’s at least sprinkling a circle of mountain ash around the two unconscious boys, though, so she’s not completely useless like Derek currently is.

Isaac jumps into the circle. “Hold on,” he says. “ _Matt Daehler_ is the kanima master?”

Derek groans. “I told you!” Stiles crows. “Did I or did I not say it would be Matt?”

“I don’t get it,” Allison says. “Why Matt? He’s just a teenager.”

“And he’s creepy as all hell, like I said,” Stiles says smugly. “Maybe the kanima leans toward creepy obsessive people, who knows.”

“Just shut up and help me with these,” Isaac says, throwing a length of chain at Stiles’ head. Scott tries to follow him into the circle and bounces hilariously off the barrier. “What the-?”

“Mountain ash,” Johanna says. “Puts up a nice magical barrier around werewolves and other magical creatures. It should work on kanima, too.”

Lydia’s eyes light up. “Does it work on banshees?”

“Hm.” Johanna tosses a handful at Lydia, and it settles in a circle around her. Lydia kneels down and pokes at the circle before overbalancing and landing on one hand outside the circle. “Guess not.”

“Um,” Stiles says. “Guys?” He pulls Matt’s shirt up to reveal scales spreading across his ribs. Isaac curses and immediately backs out of the circle.

Derek stares. None of the books had mentioned any of this. He hates everything. “Stiles, get out of the circle,” Scott says quickly. Stiles hops dramatically over the line and nearly breaks it anyway. “Okay, so, uh.” He looks around at the room in general. “Does anyone know why Matt’s turning into a kanima?”

Lydia looks as pissed as Derek feels. “The research never mentioned _that_ ,” she snaps.

Derek turns to Julia. “Can you put up a barrier between this building and everything else?” he asks. “Make sure nothing gets in or out?”

“Of course,” Julia says. “But I’m not about to lock in a bunch of teenagers.”

Allison notches an arrow. “We can handle this.”

Julia looks at Derek. He nods. “Okay, then. Nothing gets in or out. I’ll be right outside.” She hesitates, glancing back at the boys. “Derek-”

“I know,” he says shortly. She nods and leaves.

Jackson’s eyes snap open, yellow and reptilian with scales spreading across his face, while Matt blinks awake next to him. Matt looks down at his tied hands, then up to meet Allison’s gaze. “You just made a grave mistake,” he says coldly.

“Oh god, he’s making puns,” Stiles says.

Matt turns to Jackson. “Kill them!” Jackson easily breaks free of this bonds and morphs into his kanima form. He lunges for Derek and falls back against the mountain ash barrier.

Johanna whistles softly. “Oh, good. I wasn’t entirely sure that was going to work.”

Matt stands, frowns down at the circle, and then kicks it open with his foot. “Well, shit,” Johanna says, and immediately throws a circle around herself and the humans.

Belladonna and Scott lunge for Jackson and somehow manage to tackle him to the ground while avoiding his venomous claws. Derek clamps a hand around Matt’s mouth and knocks him out against the ground. Allison stands just inside Johanna’s circle, arrow drawn and pointed at Jackson. Scott and Belladonna haul him upright, barely managing to keep him contained, and Belladonna digs her claws into his chest. “Wait!” Scott yells at her.

“We can’t control him,” Belladonna grits out while Jackson thrashes against them. Derek pushes Scott aside to help his cousin get a firmer grip.

“He doesn’t deserve to die,” Scott says. “That’s not fair to him.”

“Welcome to the real world, jackass, life isn’t fair,” Belladonna says. She eyes Allison’s arrow. “Especially for our kind.”

“Did you just quote The Lonely Island?” Stiles asks.

“Do you ever shut up?” Belladonna snaps at him. “Now, we’re out of solutions, and _he_ -” she jerks her chin at Matt’s unconscious form, “-is going to wake up soon and either order him to kill us or kill us all himself. What do you propose we do, _boy?_ ”

Scott steps forward and jerks her claws away from Jackson’s chest. “We’re not going to kill him,” he says firmly. It could be a trick of the lighting, but for a split second, his eyes glow red. Then Derek blinks, and they’re yellow again. He must be seeing things. His vision’s still all spotty from when Jackson headbutted him.

Belladonna steps back, though, eyes wide. “Derek,” she says. “Did you see…?”

“It’s missing its identity, right?” Scott says, ignoring the glances between Derek and his cousin. “So if we can show him his identity, you know, the real Jackson underneath all the…” he waves his hands, “…lizard stuff.”

“What, his real identity as an asshole?” Stiles asks skeptically. “I’m pretty sure he already knows he’s an asshole.”

“He’s not always an asshole,” Allison says. “Really. He’s a good person when you dig deep enough.” Stiles snorts. “I’m serious! Lydia, come on, back me up here.”

Lydia stares down at her necklace. “I think…” she says slowly, then marches out of the circle and pushes Scott out of the way. “Jackson!” she snaps while the kanima bares its teeth and tries to lunge at her. Derek wraps an arm around its throat to hold it back. “Lydia, what the hell are you doing?” Allison shrieks.

“Jackson!” Lydia shouts. She holds up her necklace, and the kanima stares at it, transfixed. “You remember this. You know what this is. This is your key to your house that you gave me, remember? You gave this to me, and you gave this to Danny, because you don’t trust anyone but you cared enough about us to let us into your life.” Scales shift under Derek’s hands. “Remember Danny? He’s been your best friend for the past decade and he’s never given up on you because he knows that no matter whatever stupid crap you say, deep down you care about him and you’d do anything for him. And you’d do anything for me, Jackson, I know you would. Remember that night on the lacrosse field? I screamed, and you heard me. I screamed, and you came running to help me because you’re a good person and you _care_. So,” She takes a deep breath and lifts her chin. “Turn back for me, Jackson. You don’t need someone who will use you as a weapon, you need a family who cares about you, and we are _right here_.”

Derek feels skin instead of scales beneath his hands. Jackson’s face is completely human again. “Lydia,” he whispers. “Danny.” He stares down at his shaking hands before stepping back from Derek and nodding at Belladonna.

“No,” Scott says. Belladonna’s brow creases, and she blinks away bright eyes before taking a deep breath and raising her claws. “Jackson, we can fix this!” Scott yells pleadingly.

Jackson shakes his head slowly. “You can’t,” he says. He looks at Belladonna. “Please.”

Derek closes his eyes as the familiar sound of claws tearing through flesh and slowly dragging free fills his ears. He can’t watch Jackson impaled on his cousin’s hands, sickly reminiscent of that night on the lacrosse field only a few weeks ago. He can’t watch as Scott shouts Jackson’s name, as Lydia collapses to her knees before Jackson’s body and sobs…

Derek opens his eyes. Lydia’s sobbing. Their banshee didn’t scream. Does that mean…? He stumbles forward and blindly shoves Lydia out of the way, ignoring her protests and Scott’s attempts to pull him away. He tears Jackson’s shirt open and wipes away the blood. Scott gasps.

The claw marks are gone. Derek looks between the jagged holes in Jackson’s shirt, Belladonna’s bloodstained hands, and Jackson’s unmarred torso. His chest heaves, and Jackson’s eyes fly open as he gasps in air. He stares up at Derek. “What?”

Derek pulls him upright and grips his shoulders. “Look at me,” he orders, and lets his fangs grow and his eyes glow. Jackson’s mouth drops open, identical fangs appearing in his mouth, and his irises glow bright blue. “You’re one of us now,” he says. He doesn’t understand how it happened, but it did. “Cousin.”

Jackson reaches up and feels his fangs, then stares down at his claws in wonder. “I’m…” he looks up and surges to his feet. “Lydia!”

Belladonna wipes her hands awkwardly while the teenagers cry and hug next to her. “I’m still not really sure how that worked out, but I’m glad it did,” she says. “You’re a good leader, Scott McCall. I would be proud to call you alpha one day.”

“Uh.” Scott scratches the back of his head. “Thanks?”

Belladonna shakes his hand formally, then ruins the effect by ruffling his hair. “You’re adorable, kid. Okay, so what are we doing about that one? He’s going to wake up soon.” She points at Matt, still slumped over on the ground.

“Well,” Lydia says, brushing a few stray tears away. “I got through to Jackson because he cares about me, right?” Jackson ducks his head into her hair. “So we just need someone that Matt cares about to get through to him, then.”

“Uh.” Stiles and Allison glance sidelong at each other. “I really don’t feel comfortable having Allison talk to Matt. There’s caring and then there’s, uh,” He darts a glance at Lydia before looking away, “Creepily and dangerously obsessive.”

Lydia rolls her eyes. “No, I didn’t mean Allison,” she says.

“Then who?” Stiles asks. “There is literally no one else that Matt cares about. I don’t even know if he cares about his parents.”

“They went through a pretty rough divorce a few months ago,” Isaac pipes up. “He’s living with his mom, but I think he’d rather live with his dad.” Stiles makes a face. “And yes, Stiles, I know this because I actually pay attention when people talk.”

“You know what-” Stiles begins, but Scott pushes a hand over his mouth.

“This is great!” Scott says. “You can talk to Matt, Isaac!”

Isaac looks so terrified Derek almost wants to laugh. “What?” he asks. “Me? No. We’re barely friends. I mean, we used to be close when we were kids, but that was a long time ago.”

“But you were good friends then, right?” Scott asks. “Maybe Matt’s gotten a little…”

“Creepy,” Allison supplies.

“Disastrously fixated,” Lydia says.

“General freak of nature and all-around terrible personality,” Stiles says.

“…Yeah,” Scott says. “But back then, he was a nice person, right? Like, you guys looked out for each other.”

“Yeah,” Isaac says uncertainly. He squares his shoulders. “Okay. I’ll try. I don’t really know if this’ll work, but I’ll try.”

Scott smiles warmly at him and pulls him into a hug. “Thanks, Isaac,” he says.

“I trust you, Scott,” Isaac mumbles into his shoulder. Belladonna cuts Derek another glance; he pretends not to notice. “But, uh, can I, like, get a room? It’s gonna be awkward enough without all of you staring at me.”

Derek steps closer to him. “The room’s kind of small, and there aren’t any windows,” he says quietly. “Are you going to be okay?”

Isaac nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? We can-”

“I’ll be fine, Derek,” Isaac says, jaw set. “Promise.”

 

“So,” Belladonna says to Jackson while they stand around outside the room and try not to listen to Isaac’s conversation with Matt. “Sorry about the whole killing-you thing.”

Jackson just nods. “No hard feelings,” he says lightly. Derek can’t tell if he’s decided to be super calm about the entire ordeal, or if he’s just refusing to actually react to any of it. Then again, it’s been half an hour since his spontaneous resurrection and he hasn’t let go of Lydia. It’s probably the latter.

It doesn’t help that Allison got news that her father found the missing hunter’s body covered in claw marks that match the kanima’s. “I mean,” Jackson continues shakily. “I…asked you…to. ‘s nice to know I can count on you to do that.” He makes a face. “In a really weird way.”

She ruffles his hair. “We’re family. Of course I’d do that for you. And it gets less weird, I promise. My little brother Eric lives a perfectly normal life.”

“You have a brother named _Eric?_ ” Stiles asks. He turns towards Derek with sudden glee. “And your cousin’s name is _Derek?_ And his sister’s names are _Laura_ and _Cora?_ ”

“Yeah,” Belladonna says, rolling her eyes. “Our family really likes rhyming names. It’s tradition or whatever.”

“Well, I think it’s cute,” Lydia says. “It’s-” She stops suddenly, her eyes glazing over.

“Lydia?” Jackson crouches in front of her, cupping her face between his hands. “Lydia, talk to me.”

“I…” Lydia whispers, her breath coming in short gasps. “Is…”

Scott leaps to his feet. “Isaac?” Derek doesn’t think, just runs straight for the closed door. It splinters beneath his shoulder and he crashes to the floor as Lydia’s scream rings through his ears. Isaac lies paralyzed on the floor, and Matt stands over him with a clawed hand drawn back.

Scott leaps over Derek and lands on top of Isaac. He shouts in pain as Matt’s claws rake down his back from shoulder to spine. Derek scrambles to his feet and charges into Matt, pinning him against the wall. Matt digs his claws into Derek’s gut and tears out, leaving deep gashes that send Derek collapsing to the floor.

Matt pushes past him and stalks after Scott as he struggles to pull Isaac out of the room. “I’ll kill you, Lahey,” he seethes. Belladonna steps forward and pushes Isaac into Johanna’s arms, but Matt lunges and seizes Scott by the throat. “Let’s start with him, though.”

“Matt,” Belladonna says slowly. “Let him go.” Derek struggles to his knees and drags himself across the room through a puddle of his own blood.

“I will, in a moment,” Matt says. “After you’ve watched him die without doing a thing to help him. I won’t even use these claws. Just good old-fashioned asphyxiation. That sounds about fair, doesn’t it, Lahey? You let it happen to me, why not him, too?”

“Matt.” Julia steps into the room. “Don’t do this. If you do, there’s no turning back.”

“He deserves this!” Matt howls, fingers spasming around Scott’s throat. “You all deserve to die!”

Derek lunges to his feet and wraps an arm around Matt’s throat at the same that Belladonna pulls Scott free of his grip. They fall to the ground. Matt’s neck makes a horrible snapping noise. Derek holds his breath and leans closer. He can’t hear his heartbeat.

Scott stares at him, chest heaving and fresh blood running from the cuts in his neck. “He’s dead.”

“You killed him.” Derek drags his head up to look at Isaac. He shrinks back, twitching fingers grasping back towards Johanna as his paralysis fades. “Derek, you killed him.”

Fear. He’s never smelled fear on his brother before, never fear directed at him. It fills his nostrils and settles thick and bitter in his throat. “I did,” he says brokenly. “I did, Isaac.”

Julia reaches forward and tugs the teenagers back. “Come on,” she says. “You need to get out of here. Johanna, I need to speak to your father.”

“Derek.” He vaguely registers Belladonna’s voice and her hands pressing at his torso. “Derek, you need to heal. You’ve lost too much blood. Dammit, Derek, listen to me!” The last thing Derek sees is Johanna leading Isaac away, and his terrified eyes fading into the night. He lets his own eyes slip shut.

“Is he going to be all right?” Scott’s voice floats above him, too sharp and too loud.

“I don’t know.” He’s always appreciated Belladonna’s honesty. “Scott, you should go with them. You don’t need to see this.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“All right, kid, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Wait, what are you-” He hears bones crunch; his wrist tingles. Belladonna swears under her breath. “Why’d you break his wrist?”

“He was supposed to start healing. I don’t know why it’s – Derek. _Cousin_. Derek, stay with me, Derek, you need to breathe.”

He’s floating. He’s back on that soft, warm cloud. It’s a little silly, to be dying of a scratch, but he deserves it. He killed a boy. He took a life. His own brother is terrified of him. What if Isaac never trusts him again? What if Isaac leaves because of him? It’s better off this way. He doesn’t—

 _“Derek!”_ Scott’s voice cuts through him like an electric shock. Air rushes into his lungs; he feels them expand and burst into flames. His entire body burns, his throat is dry and scraped raw, and he can’t hear anything but screams. A warm hand presses into his, and he clamps down, grinding it to dust.

 

He barely manages to crack his eyes open before his cousin slaps him across the face.

“Ow,” he groans, struggling to sit up. His elbow sinks into a fluffy pillow. Great. He’s an invalid again.

“You deserved that,” Belladonna hisses, pointing a finger in his face. He goes cross-eyed trying to look at it. “You deserved that and you know it. It’s been three days! Cora cried!”

Derek finally manages to uncross his eyes. “I made Cora cry?”

“That tends to happen when you think you’re going to lose your brother _twice_ in the span of a month,” Belladonna snaps. “You didn’t even have the excuse of getting pneumonia or, or, polio, you asshole.” She shoves his shirt up – “Hey!” – and peels away his bandages. Wait. _Bandages?_ “Bandages?”

“Yes, bandages,” she says, wadding them up and throwing them into the trash. “You were bleeding like a complete idiot for days. Did I mention it’s been three days? Because it’s been three days.”

“I get it, it’s been three days,” Derek mutters. “It’s not like I _meant_ to almost die, you know.”

“Oh, shut up,” Belladonna says. “You _did_ , you goddamn idiot. Fuck’s sake, you’ve survived straight up _impalement_ , you really think a little scratch is going to kill you? You refused to heal. You just sat there and willed yourself to death.”

“Well, maybe I deserved it!” he yells. “I killed a sixteen-year-old boy.”

Belladonna presses her lips together. “Derek,” she says. “You killed a highly disturbed individual who had already killed someone and was going to kill _all_ of us. Julia was going to kill him if you didn’t. You know what – here.” She drags him to his feet and into the bathroom. “Look in the mirror, Derek, and show me your eyes.”

Derek slowly lifts his head and lets his eyes change. He opens his eyes and – yellow. Yellow irises glow back at him. “There. See?” Belladonna says. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Isaac’s scared of me.” He doesn’t care how gloomy he sounds. _Isaac is scared of him._ “I looked into his eyes and all I could smell was fear.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” She knocks her head against the doorframe. “I need Laura. I can’t handle this.” She stomps out of the room, then turns and stomps right back in. “Okay. So Isaac was scared of you for the first time ever. And rather than waiting for an explanation or a conversation or words, at all, you decided the best course of action was to just throw yourself off the guilt cliff? You think Darren’s never been scared of me or Aaron before? That’s part of being a human in a pack. Fear is going to happen sometimes, especially when they’re caught off guard or they _nearly die_. Fuck’s sake.”

“Isaac didn’t grow up like this,” Derek whispers. Belladonna rolls her eyes in the mirror. “His own father – he’s been through so much and he was afraid of his own family. I never wanted him to feel like that again.”

“Well, I never wanted to hunt down a kanima, but here we are,” she says. “Shit happens, Derek. You’ll never hurt him, he knows that. I’ll give him Darren’s email, okay? They can be human pack penpals. I’ll even tell Eric about it so Darren actually reads his email. But you can’t just collapse into a self-destructive mess when stuff like this happens, okay? You’re the elder now. You have to be strong for the babies.”

Derek straightens and glares at her. “They’re not babies.”

“Well, my brothers are,” Belladonna says. “Your kids…maybe not so much. But they _should_ be babies. You know how much responsibility that McCall kid’s had to shoulder while you checked out?”

“I didn’t mean to-”

She stops him with a finger. He tries and fails to not go cross-eyed again. “Don’t go all guilty on me again. He’s fine. Isaac’s been staying with him. He’s been checking in on Jackson. He’s really good at leading his band of babies.” She steps closer and lowers her voice. “You saw his eyes that night. They went red, just for a moment. _And_ he roared you back to life.”

“I didn’t,” Derek protests. “He didn’t-”

“Okay, it wasn’t much of a roar, it was more like a caterwaul, but the point still stands. I don’t know what the hell his eyes were doing, but the kid’s a natural.” She straightens and continues at a more normal volume. “He makes soup just like Auntie Talia, too. I tried to get him to make something else, but once Cora let slip that it’s your favorite, that’s all he made. Three days straight of chicken and dumplings, Derek. Thank fucking god you woke up.”

“Is there more?” Derek asks hopefully.

She rolls her eyes. “He made enough to feed this entire damn town twice. You think I’m exaggerating, just wait until you see the state of your freezer. Go downstairs and eat, I’ll call him and let him know you’re awake so he can come over and cry on you or whatever.”

When he gets downstairs, Cora punches him in the face before throwing her arms around him and soaking the front of his shirt. “You’re such a fucking idiot.”

“I know,” he says, stroking her hair. “I’m sorry. And your cousin is a terrible influence on your vocabulary.”

“Whatever, moron,” Cora says. She sniffles a little when she pulls away, and they both pretend not to notice. “Come on, Scott made like fifty gallons of your favorite soup, you better eat it and be grateful.”

Cora understands his desire to be alone, so once she stares at him long enough to see for herself that he won’t fall over dead, she goes upstairs with Boyd and Erica and shuts her door firmly. Belladonna’s done the same with Laura’s old room, so the house is blissfully quiet until Scott comes clattering up the drive. He bursts through the door and hugs Derek so hard that he accidentally tackles him to the ground.

Derek wheezes as Scott lands squarely on his stomach and tries not to vomit up all the soup he just ate. “Sorry!” Scott says quickly, helping Derek to his feet as carefully as if he were a geriatric with a broken hip. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

“I didn’t mean to die,” Derek blurts. Belladonna appears in his mind, glaring daggers and pointing fingers and making him go cross-eyed. “I mean, well, I was…I was stupid. Really, really, _really_ stupid. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to put you through that.”

“It’s okay,” Scott says with a shrug. “I get it.” Derek doubts it, but he’s grateful that Scott doesn’t pry. “Um. Isaac’s been staying at my…”

“It’s okay,” Derek says. “I get it.”

Scott slumps. “It’s just…he just needs some time to process, is all. It’s all kind of a lot.”

“Yeah.” Derek nods numbly.

Scott squeezes his shoulder. “It’ll all work out,” he says. “We’re gonna be okay.”

 

To Derek’s complete surprise, it all works out. Belladonna and Johanna go back to school, Mom comes back home, Julia Bacari goes back to Berkeley, and everyone breathes a collective sigh of relief. The hunters find Mr. Lahey’s body a few miles from the county line, covered in the same claw marks as the dead hunter. Scott breaks the news to Isaac; Derek breaks the news to Jackson.

Ethan and Aiden turn into slightly nicer assholes and become Jackson’s mentors the way only a fellow blue-eyed werewolf could; according to Erica, the three of them have lots of group sessions with Morrell. Jackson spends most of his time sandwiched between Malia and one of the twins.

Isaac shows up at the house eventually, and even his duffel bag looks sheepish. “It was just a lot to process at first, and then when I found out about my dad, I kinda…just didn’t want to,” he says. “It’s not like I blamed you for any of it or anything, you know.” Derek didn’t know, Derek very much _didn’t_ know, but he tries not to look like this is news to him. He’s probably not very successful, because the next thing he knows, Isaac is wrapped around him like a gangly octopus and they’re both blubbering into each other’s necks. “God, you’re such drama queens,” Cora says. “I miss Laura.”

Isaac surreptitiously wipes his nose on Derek’s sweater (Derek notices. Isaac has never been good at subtlety). “We all miss Laura,” he says, and it doesn’t hurt as much to hear as it had a week ago.

Matt’s funeral is attended by the entire sophomore class of BHHS and not many others. His parents stand on opposite sides of the coffin and glare bitterly at each other the entire time. The official report rules it a suicide, and the school’s hallway is filled with whispers about his doctored pictures of Allison Argent. The lacrosse team stands together while Scott and Jackson lay Matt’s jersey over the coffin. Jackson’s jaw is clenched so hard that Derek thinks he just might crack his teeth. Matt’s parents start to argue in furious whispers as the crowd disperses. They’ve just barely reached their cars when their shouts echo across the cemetery.

No one goes to Mr. Lahey’s funeral. Isaac spends the day curled up between Derek and Cora, clutching Camden’s old scarf.

Allison shows up at the house a few weeks later with her old duffel bag of spare clothes and Dale the wolf. Derek raises an eyebrow. “Been a while since you ran away from home,” he says.

“I just need to not be around people who watch me like they’re waiting for me to break,” she says, stomping past him and out onto the back porch. He grabs iced tea from the fridge and follows. “My parents are trying to keep me even closer, now, after Bennett, and the photos, and Scott…” She sighs. “He’s great, that’s the thing. He’s so great. He’s been so great to Isaac, and to Jackson, and to Lydia, and now’s he focusing all that on me and I don’t need that, you know?”

“You’ve always been strong,” Derek says. He drops a straw into her glass and holds it out to her. “Not because you need to be, but because you just _are_.”

Allison drinks her iced tea and nods furiously. “And he’s handling me with kid gloves and, like, trying to shield me from the mean kids at school and I just don’t _care_ , you know? I don’t need him to protect me. It’s just high school. I can protect myself.”

Derek sips his tea. “So have you actually tried telling him this?”

“Oh _boy_ ,” Allison says, rolling her eyes. “If I had a nickel for every time _he’s_ told me that he doesn’t want me to get hurt, and _I’ve_ told him that I can take care of myself…I’d have, like, a quarter.”

“Hm,” Derek says unhelpfully. He and Paige used to fight like this, but that also ended in him and Paige breaking up, so he doesn’t feel like it’s the best experience to bring up with Allison.

She sighs. “I know he’s only worried because I’m in this really confused state right now and I have a lot to figure out, and I know he just wants to be there for me.” She fiddles with her straw. “But I don’t think I want him to.”

“You’re breaking up with him.”

“Yeah,” she says. “It’s just, all this stuff with Jackson, and Matt, and kanima, and a lot of people died, and I just, I need to figure out where I stand with all of it. As a hunter, and going by the Code, I should have killed Jackson. But as Jackson’s friend, I couldn’t. It’s all so tangled, you know?”

Derek knows. “And everyone’s just trying to be there for you, but you can barely even breathe under the weight of their gaze,” he says.

“See, you get it,” Allison says.

“Please don’t bring me into this when you talk to Scott. I think he might actually respect me as an adult, and I don’t want to ruin the façade.”

She chuckles and nestles her head against his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I won’t,” she says. “But really, you get it. And Lydia gets it, and Jackson gets it because he’s feeling that more than any of us, and Danny gets it because he’s always gotten Jackson. I think he might be psychic, you should look into that,” she adds.

“Are you serious?” Derek asks.

“I don’t actually know,” Allison says. “Danny is an enigma. But I just really need to get away from all of this and have some space to breathe on my own, you know? So…” She gestures lamely at the duffel bag. “And this summer, I’m going to stay with my mom’s family in France. Her mom’s the matriarch of her family, I think I can really learn from her.”

“You’re gonna be gone the whole summer?”

“Yeah.” She tilts her head up and smiles at him. “Don’t worry, I’ll send you lots of postcards.”

 

Allison sends him a postcard every two weeks and emails him pictures of herself eating gelato every few days. In retaliation, Derek emails back a picture of himself eating animal fries from In-N-Out.

 

A week after Allison leaves for France, Derek sees Scott and Stiles at the grocery store and stops dead in the middle of the aisle. Scott’s hair doesn’t curl around the edges of his face anymore, but has been shorn closer to his skull and sweeps around his forehead. An image leaps unbidden into his mind, Scott with lines circling his arm and a furrowed brow and strong shoulders bowing under an unseen weight. Those warm brown eyes, so deeply piercing and mournful, framed by the same hair that Scott wears now.

“Derek, you okay?” Scott’s voice cuts into his thoughts and brings him back. He relaxes his clenched fists and bends to pick up the bread he’d dropped. When he looks up, Scott stares at him with a furrowed brow and worried eyes, his thumb seeping warmth into his shoulder. Derek nods and fakes a smile as best as he can, and the worry bleeds out of Scott’s face. It’s a much better look on him. “Kinda lost you for a minute there, man.”

“I’m back now, don’t worry,” Derek says. “Sorry about that. Nice hair.”

“Really?” Scott beams and ducks his head. “I wasn’t sure about it. Stiles said it looked cool, but, y’know, that’s Stiles…”

“It looks good.” It really does. Derek doesn’t know what significance it holds for this Scott or the other one – he still can’t see them converging into the same person, they’re just so different – but it fits him. He looks like less of a naïve boy, and more like a growing leader. Derek just wishes seeing it didn’t fill him with dread. “I gotta-” He jerks his thumb towards the snack aisle. Stiles is on another healthy foods warpath; they won’t follow him there.

“Right, sorry we interrupted you,” Scott says, nodding. “See you around!”

He’s staring at the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and wondering how long he should hide out when someone taps him on the shoulder. “Hey,” Stiles says. “Don’t worry, I sent Scott to the produce section, it’ll take him forever to feel up every single avocado.”

Derek listens for Scott’s heartbeat and nods when he hears it firmly out of earshot. “What’s up?”

Stiles makes a face. “Please don’t talk like that, you’re _old_ ,” he says. “But, okay, when we saw you back there you looked like you’d just seen a ghost.” Derek clenches his jaw to keep from reacting and is silently grateful that Stiles can’t hear his heartbeat. “And you were looking right at Scott, man, and as his best friend I need to know if something’s going on that involves him.”

For all his sarcasm and turns of phrase, Stiles’ face is so expressive it’s practically transparent. Derek doesn’t even have to try to see determination, concern, low-simmering anger, and the barest hint of guilt. “You know, it’s not your fault Scott got bit,” he says. “You can’t spend the rest of your life trying to protect him to make up for something that no one even blames you for.”

“Yeah, well, it kind of is my fault,” Stiles says. There’s the anger. “I dragged him out to the Preserve that night, and I left him there, and he’s my best friend, okay, I’m always going to try to protect…hey!” He shoves his finger in Derek’s face. “Stop deflecting and tell me what the hell’s going on.”

“It doesn’t have anything to do with Scott,” Derek says, and realizes that he doesn’t even have to lie. This Scott is not the same Scott that Derek met all those years ago. That Scott was hardened from so many breaks and hairline fractures; this Scott is unhurt and whole. He’s going to make sure Scott stays that way.

He blinks and realizes he’d gotten lost in his own head again. When he looks at Stiles, though, his face has softened. “It’s Kate, isn’t it?” he says. “Laura told us about her. It happened around this time all those years ago, right?”

Derek blinks rapidly. “Yes,” he says, seizing onto the lie like a lifeline. “Yeah, it…it, well.” He trails off and shrugs lamely at Stiles, hoping he’ll make his own inferences. Stiles falls for it, nodding sympathetically. “Don’t tell anyone, please,” he says, mostly because if Stiles mentioned it to any of Derek’s friends then they’d all stare at him weirdly before pointing out how much of a non-issue Kate actually is.

“It’s not good to keep things in, you know,” Stiles says, frowning at him. “You clearly haven’t moved past it.”

Derek barks a laugh. Stiles doesn’t know the _half_ of it. “What’s it to you?”

“Well, normally, nothing,” Stiles says. He crosses his arms and lifts his chin. “But Scott’s my best friend, and you matter to Scott so you matter to me.”

Derek’s eyebrows shoot up. “I matter to Scott?” he asks, voice smaller than he’d intended.

“Christ,” Stiles mutters, rolling his eyes. “You’re both so ridiculous. I can’t deal with this.” He throws up his arms and walks away. “You should try to work past all this,” he says, waving his arms while walking backwards. It’s a recipe for disaster. Derek eyes the pyramid of Ice Breakers nervously. “So that Scott doesn’t feel horribly guilty if you end up getting yourself hurt. Have you ever tried to comfort Scott when he’s guilty for no good reason? It’s a nightmare.”

“Stiles.”

Stiles stops walking. “What?”

Derek nods at the Ice Breakers, mere inches from his flailing hand. “Don’t knock anything over.”

He straightens and glares. “Screw you, Derek,” he says, then turns and walks straight into the rack of Popchips.

 

 **allyayyyyy:** nous protégeons ceux qui ne peuvent pas se protéger eux-mêmes

 **dereleek:** tish, that’s french

 **allyayyyyy:** oh shut up

 **dereleek:** je ne peux pas parler francais

 **dereleek:** i’m also too lazy to copy n paste the accents

 **allyayyyyy:** JUST GOOGLE TRANSLATE IT ASSHOLE

 **allyayyyyy:** so what do u think?

 **dereleek:** it’s nice, i guess?

 **dereleek:** what’s it for?

 **allyayyyyy:** new code

 **allyayyyyy:** MY new Code

 **dereleek:** can you do that?

 **allyayyyyy:** why the hell not?

 **allyayyyyy:** im the eldest female argent by blood, ill be a legal adult in six months, and ive created and maintained an alliance between the resident werewolf pack of my town better than my parents OR grandparents ever did

 **allyayyyyy:** its about damn time i give the orders instead of receive them

 **dereleek:** damn right

 **allyayyyyy:** DAMN right

 **dereleek:** “we protect those who cannot protect themselves”

 **dereleek:** i like it

 **dereleek:** i like it a lot

 **allyayyyyy:** me too

 **dereleek:** i’m really proud of you, ally ayyyyy

 **allyayyyyy:** thanks, dereleek

 

Jackson stomps into the house, shoving one of the twins in front of him with his hands pinned behind his back. “Derek, he needs to be punished.”

Derek stands up immediately, then mentally curses when his conscience gets the better of him. “What did he do?”

“I didn’t do anything!” the twin protests, but he doesn’t try to break out of Jackson’s grip. Derek can’t decide if that’s nice of him or just patronizing.

“He’s dating my best friend!” Jackson says. “He’s _not_ allowed to date my best friend.”

Derek really, really hates being related to Jackson. “Is your best friend okay with dating him?”

“That doesn’t matter,” Jackson says stubbornly. “He’s not good enough for Danny.”

“Okay, first, let Aiden go-”

“I’m Ethan!” Ethan whines. He seems more hurt by Derek getting his name wrong than Jackson digging his claws into his wrists. It’s not Derek’s fault he and Aiden are completely identical. He’ll get their names straight one day. Probably.

“Second,” Derek continues, “Danny has terrible taste in guys.”

“Exactly,” Jackson says, nodding at Ethan while Ethan wilts. Then he seems to realize that Derek just insulted Danny. “Hey!”

“He gave me his phone number once,” Derek says. “That’s terrible instincts, right there.”

“You’re a good-looking guy, it runs in the family,” Jackson says with a shrug and a small smile.

“Okay, but-” Derek stops as he watches Malia stomp into the house, shoving the other twin in front of her with his hands pinned behind his back. “Derek, he needs to be punished,” she says.

Derek pinches between his brows while Aiden struggles in Malia’s grip. “Okay, if he’s dating one of your friends, too-”

“What?” Malia says. “No, he’s keeping _me_ from dating anyone. He threatens everyone who even thinks of flirting with me. He even threatened Danny! Danny’s gay!”

“He could be bi,” Aiden says.

“No, he’s gay,” Jackson says. “He’d tell me if that changed. ‘Cause I’m his best friend.”

“I saw him staring at your ass,” Aiden tells Malia.

“He was spotting me in rock climbing, of course he was looking at my ass.”

Derek stares between both sets of twins. “What am I supposed to do about either of these? I’m not a relationship counselor.”

“Yeah, your perpetual bachelordom makes that pretty obvious,” Ethan says with a snort. Derek glares at him. “Sorry.”

“I can’t believe I’m – look,” he says, “No one gets to dictate who you can and cannot date, as long as everyone in the relationship fully consents to it. Grow the hell up and let people make their own mistakes. Choices. Whatever.”

“For the record, I’d like to point out that I have no problem with anyone dating anyone,” Ethan says.

“Ethan.” Ethan beams, apparently thrilled that Derek remembered his name. “Shut up.”

“Yessir.”

 

Mr. Westover retires at the end of the school year. Derek graduated five years ago, but Mr. Westover still remembers him as one of his best students – it helps that Derek works only a few blocks away at the library and sees him every few months – so he gets invited to his retirement party. He convinces Erica to help him make an ungodly amount of apple crumble – he slices the apples, she does everything else, Cora is banned from the kitchen because her mere presence can make things catch fire – and shows up at BHHS’ gym anticipating being the youngest person there by at least a decade. It’s fine. He likes Mr. Westover, and Mrs. Westover always sends him home with a giant tin of her famous fudge.

He walks in and is nearly blinded by foxfire. He stumbles, nearly drops the apple crumble, then tries to walk normally to the table and hopes no one noticed.

No one noticed. The average age of the room is probably fifty-five. Well, except for the kitsune lighting up the other end of the table. Derek sets the crumble down and tries to stare without actually staring. It’s a lost cause. Her tails are _beautiful_. He’s seen pictures of foxfire before, but he didn’t think it’d be this amazing in person. The kitsune smiles and floats elegantly over to him. “You must be a Hale,” she says.

He can practically _feel_ her age and power pouring off her. “Yes,” he says. “I’m-”

“Derek!” Mr. Westover walks over with a man and – oh, a baby kitsune. She’s a kitsune and she’s a _baby_. She doesn’t even have her tails yet. Derek hopes his eyes aren’t bugging out of his head. “I see you’ve met Noshiko. Her husband, Tom Yukimura, is going to be the new me next year,” Mr. Westover says. “Tom, Derek Hale was one of my best students. He’s the librarian at the BHPL now.”

Mr. Yukimura’s eyes light up. “Pleasure to meet you, Derek Hale,” he says, shaking his hand and stressing his last name ever so slightly. “You know, I would love to talk with you sometime, see if we can set up some library field trips with my kids. Charles tells me they’re not too good at book research anymore, and the school’s library is very limited for American History.”

“Were the kids _ever_ good at book research?” Derek asks dryly; the teachers laugh while the young kitsune shuffles awkwardly. “I’d love to set some up. Call me any time.” He pulls a business card out of his wallet and hands it to Mr. Yukimura, then nods at the young kitsune. “Is this your…?”

“Oh, yes, this is our daughter, Kira,” Mr. Yukimura says, giving his daughter a one-handed hug and making her look even more uncomfortable. “She’ll be a junior in the fall.”

Derek winces internally. That’s probably the worst year for transferring in, when the cliques are firmly locked in and no one’s reached the level of senior apathy that allows the groups to get a little more fluid. Judging by the look on Kira’s face, she knows it. “Pleasure to meet you, Kira,” He says, holding his hand out; she shakes it lightly with an uneasy smile. “My siblings, Cora and Isaac, will be in your year, too, they could show you around.”

“I wasn’t aware you had a brother,” Noshiko says. The weight of her full attention is a little unsettling.

“Well, technically, we’re Isaac’s foster family,” Derek says. “But he’s my brother in all the ways that matter.” Noshiko arches an eyebrow; she probably thinks he’s a werewolf, too. “Actually, I’m sure my family would love to have you over for lunch or dinner sometime. We could start planning library visits-” he gestures between himself and Mr. Yukimura, “-and Kira could get to know a some of her classmates before the school year.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Noshiko says. “How about July third? That’s this year’s Thunder Moon, I believe.”

“Noshiko loves studying the phases of the moon,” Mr. Yukimura adds. “I gotta admit, it’s fascinating stuff.”

Thunder kitsune, then. “July third sounds great,” Derek says. “My family will be thrilled to meet you.”

 

Erica and Malia spend the entire morning and afternoon of July third helping Mom and Uncle Marcus cook while Derek, Cora, and Isaac are firmly banned from the kitchen (Boyd is banned more out of solidarity than actual incompetency). Lydia arranges table settings with a fierce sort of glee that Derek had never seen before, ordering Jackson and the twins around while they haul heavy serving platters and increasingly ornate candlesticks. Derek didn’t even know that they _had_ candlesticks. She shoves a seating chart into Derek’s hands and orders him to fill it out properly – “I know dinner parties, but I don’t know how to seat wolves and foxes together” – before pushing him into the den, where Scott and Stiles are set up chopping vegetables.

“See, what I don’t get is why _everyone_ has to be here,” Stiles says. “I’m up to my ears in Hales. I don’t get why the twins are here. I don’t even get why _I’m_ here right now.”

“Most of my cousins are at school right now, actually,” Derek says. “It’s really just Darren and Eric here.” They’re out grilling with Uncle Lucas, but Derek hopes they square off with the twins later. Darren didn’t survive nineteen years of growing up human by backing down. It’ll be hilarious.

“Yeah, I still find it hilarious that you have cousins whose names can combine to form yours,” Stiles says.

“I was born first,” Derek says. “It’s not my fault my aunts were weird. And the twins are here because even though they’re not pack, they’re under my mother’s protection while they go to school here. And you’re here because you _are_ pack.”

Stiles makes a face. “You and me are not wolf brothers or whatever,” he says, waving his knife between their faces. Derek’s slightly worried he’s going to end up stabbing himself in the nose.

“No,” Derek agrees. “But you and Scott are. So you’re extended pack, just like Lydia and Paige and Gabe.”

“And Boyd?”

“Nah, Boyd’s pack,” Scott and Derek say at the same time. “I’m not sure when or how that happened, but he and Cora are pretty much a package deal at this point,” Derek adds.

Stiles glances at Derek’s still-empty seating chart. “Want some help with that?”

“Do _you_ know how to seat ten werewolves, nine humans, two kitsune, two banshees, a werecoyote, and a druid without offending anyone?” Derek asks.

Stiles blows his breath out and reaches for another potato. “Yeah, I’ll leave you to it.”

“How are we all fitting at one table, by the way?” Scott asks.

“We’re not,” Derek says.

Stiles sets his knife down. “Oh, no,” he says. “Don’t tell me-”

“There’s going to be a kiddie table.”

Scott and Stiles groan.

Derek sticks his head into the dining room. “Change of plans,” he tells Lydia. “We’re using the round table.”

“But the round table won’t fit in the dining room,” Lydia says. She props her hands on her hips. “Are you telling me we’re eating _outside?_ ”

“Yep.”

Lydia sighs forcefully through her nostrils. “Well, you heard the man,” she tells the boys. “Jackson, Ethan, go set up the table. Aiden, you start helping me bring this stuff outside.” The boys immediately start moving. Derek’s impressed. He really needs to learn how to order people around like that. Lydia pouts at Derek. “Does this mean the kids’ll be sitting at the picnic tables?”

Derek nods. “Bench seating. Have fun.”

 

Dinner goes well enough. Derek wishes he could sit with his siblings and cousins, but as the eldest of his generation he’s now required to participate in all pack meetings. He’d used to look forward to being invited in, when Laura was still around, but now that everyone watches him instead it’s certainly lost its appeal. At least Kira and Scott seem to be getting along, if the frequent bouts of laughter from their table are any indication.

When the moon rises, Noshiko leads them through the Preserve to a giant tree stump. Derek recognizes the cellar where he’d hidden with Uncle Peter, that night when Ennis’ beta died, but he’d never noticed the stump. “A Nemeton,” Deaton notes. “Very old, nearly powerless.”

Noshiko nods. “A while ago, I imprisoned an evil spirit within its roots. The Nemeton was still alive, then,” she adds. “It’s dormant now, probably forever, but I wanted you to know about it.”

“Why?” Derek asks.

“If it becomes active again, the spirit will be unleashed,” Noshiko says. “It’s a nogitsune, over a thousand years old. What remains of this Nemeton needs to be protected to ensure it stays dormant.”

“It’s stayed outside our notice for decades,” Mom says. “It doesn’t take much to protect it, it seems.”

Deaton kneels and touches the stump. “It’s so old and weak that only a strong blood sacrifice would activate its power.”

“How strong?” Mom asks.

“A life,” Noshiko says. “Maybe even more. So long as blood is never spilled on its roots, it will sleep for centuries.”

“It’s a good thing Peter never learned of it, then,” Aunt Dahlia says. Mom frowns at her. “Talia, you know he always loved magic too much. You saw what it did to him.”

Mom presses her lips together for a moment. “We will keep an eye on this Nemeton,” she promises Noshiko. “Thank you for informing us.”

She nods. “Your lands are very peaceful, even with hunters living here. For a name like Beacon Hills, it feels very safe.”

Mom smiles wryly. “We’ve had our share of danger,” she says.

“Haven’t we all?”

 

Scott invites Kira to the family’s Fourth of July celebration. They travel to the Preserve’s lookout point and barbecue all day, and the kids play Frisbee and volleyball while the adults lounge on the blankets and chairs. Derek turns refereeing over to Boyd after a particularly violent game with the twins and wanders further along the cliff to catch some quiet time before the fireworks start. He loves his family, he really does. He doesn’t mind being the more grown-up amongst his cousins, but he feels like he can never relax when they’re all together like this. He won’t be alpha for at least a decade and he’s already exhausted.

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t know anyone was here!” He cracks an eye open and sees Kira slowly backing out of his field of vision. “I’ll just go.”

He sits up and opens his other eye. “Nah, there’s plenty of space.” He waves her over, and she hesitantly sits down a foot away from him. “Needed a break?”

She tucks her knees under her chin. “Your family’s great,” she says earnestly. “It’s just been a crazy couple of weeks. My parents didn’t actually tell me about the whole kitsune thing until we moved here. I mean, I _knew_ something was weird about me, but I didn’t think it was…” She spreads her hands helplessly. “And everyone in your family’s been so kind to me, especially Scott, but I just needed to…decompress for a bit. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, I’m hiding out here, too,” Derek says. “It’s not really the same, but – I have an older sister, Laura.”

Kira nods. “Your Aunt Dahlia told me about what happened,” she says. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“It’s common knowledge among folks like us, now,” Derek says with a shrug. “But, yeah, change is hard, especially when you’re not really sure what the people around you expect from you.”

“Exactly!” Kira says, nodding vigorously. “Like, I was already going to have enough trouble trying to fit in at school, and now I have to worry about not being too strong or too fast or getting my picture taken-”

“-with flash,” Derek finishes with a laugh. “Our eyes glow. I looked like such a douchebag in my prom photos.”

“Oh, no.” Kira claps a hand over her mouth. “I hadn’t even _thought_ about prom.”

“You’ve got a year, we’ll figure something out,” Derek says.

“We?”

“Well, yeah,” Derek says. “You don’t have to figure this stuff out on your own. We’re here to help you. I mean, obviously your mother will understand best, but we’re here for you, too. That’s why I set up yesterday’s meeting in the first place.”

Kira plucks a dandelion out of the grass. “I thought that was so our moms could talk about important stuff. There was assigned seating and everything.”

“I have a large family,” Derek says flatly. “Assigned seating is the only way to ensure it doesn’t end in a food fight.”

Kira laughs. “Yeah, my dad’s side of the family is huge, I love them. But they live on the other side of the States, so it’s usually just me and my parents. It can get kinda lonely.”

Derek knocks his shoulder against hers. “Well, you’ve got a big crazy family to bug now. Come by anytime you want. I mean it. I’m not actually related to half of those brats and they barge into my house anyway.”

Kira laughs. “Thanks, Derek.”

Kira watches the fireworks squashed between Derek and Scott. Her foxfire flares up during particularly bright flashes, flickering in and out all through the show. Lydia and Gabe sing classic rock songs the entire walk home like the stereotypical banshees they are, and Danny somehow convinces Jackson to join in for three-part harmonies. Derek gives Kira a piggyback ride back to the house, and she falls asleep somewhere between “Don’t Stop Believing” and “Hungry Like The Wolf.” As her head lolls and bobs on his shoulder, he’s suddenly reminded of Allison dozing on his shoulders at the carnival all those years ago.

 **dereleek:** missed you at the fireworks this year

 **allyayyyyy:** i missed u guys too

 **allyayyyyy:** apparently their independence day is even more exciting than ours, ill have to see

 **allyayyyyy:** but i missed being with u guys

 **dereleek:** i can’t wait for you to come home

 **allyayyyyy:** me neither

 

_Scott hesitates. “Derek, you…”_

_“I don’t want to know,” Derek says. “Whatever happened to me. I don’t want to know.”_

_“You’re not dead, Derek,” Scott says. “I don’t…I don’t want you counting down the days until you supposedly die. You were alive when I left, okay? You were just fine.”_

_“Then why do you talk about me like I died?”_

_Scott’s silent for several minutes. “You’re so different, here,” he says finally. “That’s why I came back. You didn’t die, but I think part of you did.”_

 

Derek turns to the corner of Uncle – of _his_ library and squares his shoulders. He’s avoided the magic section for years because, well, it scares him. Shifters and magic mix about as well as oil and water, but that had never stopped Uncle Peter. Considering what had eventually happened to him, though, that makes Derek want to stop even more.

But he’s going to be the alpha, and he’s still their researcher – Johanna trains with Deaton, but that’s different, and she’s going to be a surgeon anyway; and no matter how clever Lydia or Boyd or Stiles are, they’re still kids – so he needs to know everything. He cleaned away the dust and cobwebs a while ago, but he hasn’t dared touch the books. Uncle Peter doesn’t seem to have organized them in any recognizable pattern. Half of them aren’t even facing the right way.

Gabe stands next to him, arms crossed. “You know,” he says, “Magic’s really not my thing. Lydia’s got a much better aptitude for it, if you let her near these books she’d probably dive right in.”

“That’s exactly why Lydia’s not here,” Derek says. She’s flourished under Gabe’s guidance and her own determination, but Derek can never forget that Uncle Peter sparked her abilities in the first place. And he wants to keep Uncle Peter as far away from this as possible, even just his ghostly memory. “And you can sense things that I can’t, which is why _you’re_ here. Lydia doesn’t have synesthesia like you do, and you’re still better at sensing things than she is, anyway.”

Gabe walks closer to the shelves. “I hear whispers,” he says. “But they’re magic and they’re history, they’re always going to have whispers. You know I don’t like visiting you at the library because it’s so loud there.” He bends his head closer and narrows his eyes. “It’s so faint,” he says. “Almost completely transparent.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Derek asks.

Gabe straightens. “It’s an old thing,” he says with a shrug. “Doesn’t seem like anything ominous, here on the outside.” His fingers flutter over the book spines without touching. “It’s a beautiful pattern, though,” he says. “Like a cacophonous symphony.”

“Cacophonous doesn’t sound good.”

“Well, they’re all so different,” Gabe says. “Obviously when they’re all together like this, it’s going to make a weird combination. I don’t get this organization at all, it’s…” He glances back at Derek. “May I?” Derek nods, and Gabe starts pulling the books off the shelves, piling stacks into Derek’s arms. Derek flinches when the first book touches his hands, but it doesn’t burn him or shock him or feel like anything but an old book. He’s not really sure why he was so scared of them, anymore.

“Yeah, if this…and that…” Gabe mutters, grabbing and replacing books in Derek’s arms on until they’re empty the shelves are full again. Derek still can’t see any logical organization, but at least they’re all facing the same way now. Gabe steps back and dusts off his hands. “Much better,” he says happily. “See, that’s a more pleasing combination, how these pastels blend and look at how vibrant it is here…” He tilts his head and reads the spines. “Huh. What the hell do _Practical Voodoo_ and _Fungi of Northern Ireland_ have to do with each other?”

“I guess I’ll find out,” Derek says. “Thanks, Gabe.”

“I may have just made it worse,” he admits. “It looks great to me, but I’m probably the only person on the West Coast who can even see this.” He waves his hand where Derek can only guess colors swirl in front of the books to match the whispers that he can’t hear, either.

“Hey, if it makes sense to someone, that’s better than it making sense to no one,” Derek says.

Gabe chews on his lip. “Maybe I should be around when you and Lydia go through these,” he says hesitantly. “Just in case a book starts screaming.”

He nods. “Good idea.”

 

Isaac comes home after an overnight cross-country meet with bright pink hair and a huge smile on his face.

“Oh my god,” Derek says. Then he notices the shiny gold metal hanging around his neck. “Hey, congratulations!”

“Thanks,” Isaac says. He drops his bag on the floor and makes a beeline for the kitchen. “I think me and Stiles are friends now,” he says around a mouthful of Popchips.

“Um,” Derek says. That probably explains the hair. “Congratulations? How long is that-” he waves in the general vicinity of Isaac’s head, “-going to last?”

“About a week, I think,” Isaac says. He hasn’t stopped smiling. “I’m gonna rock the _fuck_ out of this look.”

“Language,” Derek says absently. He’s still trying to get over the…pink…of it all.

Isaac rolls his eyes. “I’m gonna rock the _flip_ out of this look, _Mom_.” A car honks outside, and Isaac hops off the kitchen counter. “That’s Erica. We’re going shopping.”

“You’re going _shopping?_ ” Derek repeats.

“Gotta get new accessories to match my hair!” Isaac calls as he skips out the door. Derek shakes his head and pulls out his phone.

 **To:** Scott McCall, 1:47 pm

do i even want to know what stiles looks like right now?

Scott sends a picture of Isaac and Stiles crowded together on the bus with matching shit-eating grins. Isaac’s hair is bright pink, of course, and Stiles’ face is orange. Spray-tan-gone-horribly-wrong orange. In the background, Jackson facepalms while Danny looks like he’s trying his hardest not to judge anyone.

 **To:** Scott McCall, 1:49 pm

…………

 **From:** Scott McCall, 1:49 pm

on the bright side, isaac and danny won their races

 **To:** Scott McCall, 1:50 pm

please tell me you still look normal

Scott sends a picture of himself wolfed out and frowning exaggeratedly at the camera.

 **To:** Scott McCall, 1:51 pm

you’re ridiculous

 **From:** Scott McCall, 1:52 pm

not as ridiculous as YOUR FACE

 **To:** Scott McCall, 1:52 pm

wow. did you come up with that all on your own?

 **From:** Scott McCall, 1:53 pm

shut up its early

 **From:** Scott McCall, 1:53 pm

you should feed me

 **To:** Scott McCall, 1:54 pm

it’s 2 in the afternoon

 **To:** Scott McCall, 1:54 pm

make stiles get you food

 **From:** Scott McCall, 1:55 pm

hes asleep

 **From:** Scott McCall, 1:55 pm

neeeed fooooooood

 **To:** Scott McCall, 1:56 pm

i don’t see how that’s my problem

Scott sends a picture of himself pouting sadly at the camera.

 **To:** Scott McCall, 1:57 pm

your puppy eyes don’t work on me mccall

 **From:** Scott McCall, 1:57 pm

give it time. theyll wear you down.

 **From:** Scott McCall, 2:15 pm

OMG DID YOU SEND A PIZZA TO MY HOUSE

 **From:** Scott McCall, 2:15 pm

I JUST CRIED A LITTLE IM SO HAPPY

 **From:** Scott McCall, 2:15 pm

YOURE THE BEST

 **From:** Scott McCall, 2:15 pm

THERE IS SO MUCH PIZZA DEREK COME HELP ME EAT IT

 **To:** Scott McCall, 2:17 pm

stop crying over your pizza and open your damn door already and i will

Scott throws his front door open and tackles Derek to the ground, either unaware or simply unconcerned that his neighbors will see him in only Spider-Man boxers. “Derek you bought me pizza I love you so much,” he babbles.

Derek pats his back awkwardly. “I didn’t realize earning your appreciation was this easy,” he says.

“Yeah, I guess I’m just easy,” Scott says. He springs to his feet and drags Derek into the house. “Come on! Pizza!”

When Scott opens the third pizza box and sees “YOUR FACE” spelled out in pepperoni, he laughs so hard he trips over a chair.

 

Derek waits through four slices of pizza before he asks Scott, “What do you have against olives?”

Scott looks guiltily at the small army of olives forming on the edge of his plate. “I just don’t really like olives,” he says with a shrug.

Derek holds out his plate. “Well, don’t waste them. Give them to me.”

“Dude,” Scott says, pulling his plate away. “You don’t have to eat my olives just because they’re there.”

“I’m going to eat your olives because I like olives,” Derek says, dropping the olives onto his slice. Scott stares.

“Dude. You just put olives on a Hawaiian pizza.”

“Yup.” Derek stares back at Scott and takes a big bite. “Delicious.”

Scott shudders dramatically. “You’re so weird.”

“Not as weird as your face.”

 

Scott announces, “I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

Derek watches in amusement as Scott flounces – honestly _flounces_ – into his room and drops facefirst onto his bed. “Oh?”

“Stiles and Isaac are friends.”

This isn’t news. Derek thought the whole pink hair/orange face incident a few weeks ago had been a pretty solid indicator. Besides, “Isn’t that a good thing?” he asks. “I mean, I’m an old person, but I consider it a good thing when my friends get along.”

Scott lifts his head from the comforter and stares at him. “You don’t get it. _Stiles_ and _Isaac_ are _friends_. They’re destructive and ambiguously moral on their own, do you understand how terrible they’re going to be together?”

Derek shrugs. Scott’s just being dramatic. He’s clearly been spending too much time with his co-captain. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

 

Stiles and Isaac blow up a sink in the boy’s locker room, superglue Coach Finstock’s whistle to his hand, and rig a door to dump a huge pot of chili on Aiden in the cafeteria. And that’s just October.

“To be fair,” Isaac says, “The sink didn’t actually blow up. It just broke in half. And Aiden’s a werewolf, it’s not like the pot falling on his head actually hurt him.”

“It was a twenty-gallon pot,” Cora says. “Stainless steel. Erica swears she heard his head ringing.”

Derek says, “Oh my god.”

 **From:** Scott McCall, 4:02 pm

i told you so

 **From:** Scott McCall, 4:03 pm

i told you this would happen did i not

 **From:** Scott McCall, 4:39 pm

not replying doesnt mean im not right

 **From:** Scott McCall, 5:16 pm

YOU ARE TWENTY FIVE YEARS OLD MAN UP AND ANSWER YOUR PHONE

 **To:** Scott McCall, 5:19 pm

unlike you, i don’t carry my phone with me everywhere. i wasn’t avoiding your texts, calm down

 **From:** Scott McCall, 5:20 pm

mm hmm suuuuuuuuure

 **To:** Scott McCall, 5:20 pm

also i’m 23, not 25

 **From:** Scott McCall, 5:21 pm

wow my bad youre soooo young

 **From:** Scott McCall, 5:25 pm

**Video Link: What’s My Age Again by blink182VEVO**

**To:** Scott McCall, 5:30 pm

…what the hell

 **From:** Scott McCall, 5:33 pm

nobody likes you when youre TWENTY THREE

 **To:** Scott McCall, 5:35 pm

shut up and do your homework

 **From:** Scott McCall, 5:36 pm

hahaha sir yes sir

 

Derek tells Cora to keep an eye on Stiles and Isaac at school. “What am I, their babysitter?” she says, but rolls her eyes and mostly goes along with his orders. He needs to work on his commanding stare. It just doesn’t have the same gravitas that Laura’s does.

A week later, Cora tells him that Stiles and Isaac somehow rigged Ethan’s motorcycle to play the Hamtaro theme song. Derek squints suspiciously at Boyd, who’s always had a knack for engineering and actually paid attention whenever Laura dragged Cora out to learn about car stuff. Also, little Alicia loves Hamtaro. Boyd blinks back innocently. “What?”

 

Derek walks into his living room one Friday night to find Scott sprawled on the couch. “Stiles ditched me to hang out with Isaac,” he says, too casually and not quite meeting Derek’s eyes.

“Oh.” Derek blinks and tries not to stand too awkwardly. “I, uh – d’you wanna watch a movie or something?”

“Sure!” Scott says, bouncing up immediately. “I’ll make popcorn!”

“Don’t burn anything,” Derek calls as Scott bounds into the kitchen.

“Who am I, _Cora?_ ”

 **To:** Kenny WUUHUU, Gabe Turner, 9:24 pm

sorry guys, i’m not gonna be able to make it tonight

 **From:** Gabe Turner, 9:25 pm

Kenny wants to know if it’s it because of another “freaky life-threatening thing”

 **From:** Gabe Turner, 9:25 pm

His words, not mine

 **To:** Gabe Turner, 9:26 pm

no, no lives being threatened

 **From:** Gabe Turner, 9:26 pm

I told him I didn’t sense anything, but obviously he doesn’t believe me

 **To:** Gabe Turner, 9:27 pm

just something came up

 **From:** Gabe Turner, 9:27 pm

No worries, then

 **From:** Gabe Turner, 9:28 pm

Kenny says “BOO YOU WHORE”

 **From:** Gabe Turner, 9:28 pm

Also if Kenny ends up making questionable life choices because I’m filling in as wingman it’s not my fault

 **To:** Gabe Turner, 9:28 pm

thanks guys

 **To:** Gabe Turner, 9:28 pm

just don’t let him have tequila and you should be fine

 **To:** Gabe Turner, 9:29 pm

i’ll make sure to call you in the middle of your hangovers tomorrow

 **From:** Gabe Turner, 9:29 pm

I will stab you in the face Hale I don’t care if I’m marrying your best friend

Derek quickly shoves his phone back into his pocket when he hears Scott’s footsteps. He must not have been as subtle as he’d hoped, though, because Scott’s face falls. “Dude, you didn’t have to cancel your plans just because I’m a total loser,” he says, staring at the floor. “I can go.”

“Yeah, I was going to have a really thrilling night of reading about the fungi of Northern Ireland,” Derek says. “So exciting. I was just checking up on Cora, since you reminded me.”

Scott raises his eyebrows and doesn’t look convinced. “She’s probably with Boyd and Erica,” he says. “Just like every other Friday night.”

“Yeah,” Derek says. “Cora mentioned something about the ice rink when she left.”

“Sounds romantic,” Scott says, completely ignoring the glare Derek sends his way. Boyd and Erica are awesome, but Cora is…Cora. He’ll always think of her as that frowning little girl tripping over her harp. Especially because she tripped over her harp just last week. “She get back to you?”

“No,” Derek says ominously. It’d probably be true even if he actually texted her.

“Well, that’s probably for the best,” Scott says. He leaps over the back of the couch and manages to only spill a few popcorn kernels. “What are we watching?”

Derek grabs a DVD at random. “You ever seen Firefly?”

 

He pauses the DVD before the next episode starts. Scott hadn’t seen Firefly before, and he’d laughed at all the right parts and even gaped at Derek in betrayal when Kaylee “died,” but he’d gotten restless and jittery once the credits rolled. “Are you jealous?” he asks.

Scott frowns. “Of the spaceship?” he asks, confused. “Kinda, on principle I guess, because spaceships are always cool. But I don’t think I’d want to be constantly moving and looking over my back for the rest of my life.”

“Me, too,” Derek says. “But I actually meant Isaac and Stiles.”

“Oh.” Scott’s leg stops jiggling. “Well. I mean, a big part of that is just general concern for their combined effect on public property, but. Yeah, I’m kind of jealous, I guess.”

“They’re not going to steal each other away from you, you know,” Derek says.

Scott drops his head back against the couch. “I _know_. Like, I know they wouldn’t have even become friends in the first place without me. But it’d just been me and Stiles for the longest time, so it was kinda…weird when he ditched me for someone else.”

“Sharing friends is always awkward at first,” Derek says.

“And it’s so dumb, because I’d ditched Stiles so many times for Allison and Isaac before,” Scott says. “And now it’s finally happened to me, and I really don’t have any right to be jealous, but.” He shrugs. “I still am. Just a little. And, you know, Stiles was so great about it when I started hanging out with Isaac a lot, so-”

“He was?” Derek asks. He remembers Stiles looking rather like a sour hedgehog whenever he dropped off Isaac and Scott at weekend lacrosse practice, and he’s pretty sure that’s not Stiles’ normal face. Maybe it’s his normal lacrosse-playing face. Derek wouldn’t know that one, since he never plays during games.

Scott laughs. “Okay, no, he kind of hated Isaac on principle for an entire year.”

“See, you’re already doing better than that.” He shoves a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Up for another episode?”

The next morning, Isaac sends Derek a picture of Cora with a wilted flower tucked behind her ear and smiling at someone off camera, with the caption _“they grow up so fast! :3,”_ closely followed by _“also if u heard anything about loud possibly explosive noises at the old mall i had nothing to do with that.”_

Scott looks up from his own Samsung Galaxy S II and groans into his scrambled eggs. “One of these days, one of them is going to end up slicing their own ear off and you know what I’m going to do? I’m going to stand there and _laugh_.”

“No, you’re going to put their severed ear on ice and drive them to the ER,” Derek says. “And you’ll probably cry.”

“You don’t know me,” Scott says. He starts to stand, but Derek holds out the ketchup for him to slop over his eggs like the heathen he is.

“I kind of do,” he says with a smirk.

Scott sits back down. “Yeah,” he says, smiling softly down at the ketchup. “You kind of do.”

 

Derek sits down on the couch across from Cora. “Okay,” he says. “So.”

“So,” Cora repeats warily.

“So.” He nods. “So when – sometimes – so, um-”

“Oh my god, Derek, I’m sixteen years old. I don’t need The Talk.”

“Oh, thank god,” Derek says, slumping against the cushions in relief. He sits back upright. “Wait. I don’t believe you.”

Her face scrunches in confusion. “What?”

“We need to talk about safe sex,” Derek says determinedly, pulling out the pamphlets he got from Melissa. “Werewolves can’t transmit STDs, but-”

“I’m asexual,” Cora says flatly.

“I know you are,” Derek says, and smiles gently when his sister’s eyebrows shoot up. “But are Boyd and Erica?”

Her face rapidly switches from ‘annoyance’ to ‘surprise’ to ‘sheer, blind panic.’ Damn, he loves being a big brother. “That’s none of your business,” she says, aiming for mulish and ending up closer to hysteric.

“Well, you’re dating them, so it kind of is,” Derek says.

Her face goes red. “We’re not _dating_ ,” she says. He raises an eyebrow. “It’s just – it’s kind of new, okay, and labels are so dumb, anyway, and-”

Derek holds up a hand. “It’s really not my place to ask, and I’m not saying that you need use these. But if you do, you know – which I’m not saying you _will_ , but in case you _do_ – you do need to use these.”

Cora stares wide-eyed at the box in Derek’s hand. “I’m not taking that,” she says flatly.

“I don’t care what your sexuality is,” he says. “This is for just in case.”

“Give it to Boyd, then,” Cora says, slowly edging off the couch.

“Fine, I will,” Derek says, standing up.

“Wait, what?” Cora asks as he walks out the door and towards his car. “Derek, wait, oh my god, I was _kidding_.”

Derek leans out the window of the Camaro. “I am too young to be an uncle,” he says seriously. “And read those pamphlets!”

 

Boyd blinks at Derek, stone-faced. “Am I allowed to go die quietly in a hole?” he asks. “Or do you have to beat my ass first?”

“Nah,” Derek says, and Boyd sags in relief. Or, well, his shoulders lower a fraction of a centimeter. It’s an important fraction of a centimeter. “I actually kind of like you, and I trust you to make smart decisions and also to not break my little sister’s heart or I’ll break your legs.” He smiles sunnily. Boyd doesn’t blanch, but his lower lip twitches. He’s counting it as a win.

“Ooh,” Erica says, inspecting the box of condoms. “Hey, next time can you get them in different flavors? Oh, and, like, lube? Actually, I should just go with you.”

Derek glares at her. “No.”

“Is that a no to the flavored condoms, or to the lube?”

He glares harder and wishes she wasn’t so immune to it. She spends too much time with Isaac. “No.”

“You’re no fun, Derek.”

 

Allison stares in slack-jawed awe. Allison _never_ stares in awe, and Allison is _never_ slack-jawed. Derek has a sudden craving for popcorn. This is going to be so entertaining. _“How?”_ she finally blurts.

Kira lowers her sword and shrugs bashfully. “Um,” she says. “Kitsune stuff, I guess?”

“And you’ve never had any training.”

“Well, I knew which end to hold,” Kira says. She bites her lip and shuffles her feet as if suddenly becoming a katana savant is something to be embarrassed about. Maybe for her, it is. Derek just kind of wants to interview her and film her from every angle and write an entire report on swordsmanship to add to his kitsune binder. Kira glances at him, slightly panicked. She probably knows exactly how much he’s nerding out on the inside right now. He shrugs unapologetically.

Allison paces around her in a wide arc. “Show me again.”

“Okay, but my forms are definitely all wrong,” Kira says, and starts going through her exercises again. There are a lot of backflips. Derek personally thinks she could add a few more.

Next to him, Allison bites her lip and sighs almost inaudibly. Derek snorts, and her eyes widen comically as she remembers herself. “Shut up,” she hisses. “She’s dating Scott, and I am very happy for both of them.”

“So it’s cute faces with dangerous weapons that do it for you, huh,” he teases.

“I hate you so much.” She blinks. “Wait. Did you just call Scott cute?”

His brain shorts out and flies into a panic. “You call him cute all the time, Allison,” he hears himself say smoothly. He’s getting better at this. “If I said he wasn’t cute, I strongly suspect that you or Stiles or Isaac would jump out of the nearest bush and stab me on principle.”

“I would, too,” Kira calls.

Allison’s eyes widen. “Have you been listening to our entire conversation?”

“No, but I heard ‘Scott’ and ‘cute’ and that’s just a universal truth,” Kira says. She shrugs. “It’s just, like, the rules of feminism.”

That’s not even remotely the rules of feminism, but – “He looks cute with his hair pushed back,” Allison agrees.

Derek watches the two girls beam at each other. It must be some weird high school thing. “Youths,” he mutters like the complete old person he is. Allison kicks him.

 

Braeden wanders into Beacon Hills to visit her old friend Morrell. Derek runs into her on his jogging route, and she leers at his shirtless chest. “You’ve certainly grown up, Derek Hale.”

She has a new set of scars running across her neck and the side of her face. Canada must’ve been pretty rough. He cocks an eyebrow. “How long you in town for?”

“Couple weeks, maybe,” she says. “A month, tops.”

He closes the distance between them and runs the tips of his fingers over her scars. “I guess we’ve got a lot of catching up to do,” he says.

“Mm-hm,” she says, and pulls him down to press their lips together. “We should get started right away.”

 

_“So, when did we meet?” Derek asks. “How old was I?”_

_Scott laughs. “Dude, I’m not telling you. No specifics, remember? I don’t want you obsessing over it.”_

_“I’m already going to obsess over it,” Derek says._

_“Well, don’t. I’m not worth obsessing over, man.”_

_He flops onto his back. “It’s just – we must be so important to each other, if you came back to talk to me out of everyone in the world. I can’t wait to meet you again.”_

_“Me, too,” Scott says._

_“That’s easy for you to say, you’ll see me as soon as you get back to your own timeline.” He looks straight ahead, but sees Scott swallow and look away in his peripheral vision. “Do you have to go?”_

_“Of course I have to go,” Scott says. “I have to go back to my own time. You’ll never get to live yours if I stay here.”_

_“Calm down, Scott, I’m not_ that _obsessed with you,” Derek says with a scoff._

_“It’s part of the rules,” Scott says. “It doesn’t matter if I want to stay, I’m going to get pulled back as soon as the sun rises.”_

_Derek watches him, staring ahead at the window. The sky’s already starting to turn light blue. “Do you want to stay?” he asks. “If you could?”_

_Scott doesn’t answer._

 

 **From:** Scott McCall, 5:12 pm

OH MY GOD

 **From:** Scott McCall, 5:13 pm

JACKSON JUST HANDED ME A CUPCAKE AND SERENADED ME W DANCING QUEEN

 **From:** Scott McCall, 5:13 pm

I WAS TRAPPED IN THE SHOWERS IM ONLY WEARING A TOWEL WHAT JUST HAPPENED

 **From:** Scott McCall, 5:14 pm

I HATE YOU SO MUCH

 **To:** Scott McCall, 5:15 pm

i have no idea what you’re talking about

 **From:** Scott McCall, 5:16 pm

HE LITERALLY STARTED W “MY COUSIN SAYS HAPPY BIRTHDAY” DEREK I KNOW THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT

 **From:** Scott McCall, 5:18

thanks for the cupcake btw. howd you know red velvets my favorite?

 **To:** Scott McCall, 5:19 pm

happy 17th birthday, scott

 **From:** Stiles Stilinski, 5:21 pm

so TAHTS y u wanted 2 kno his fav cupcake flavor

 **From:** Stiles Stilinski, 5:22 pm

ur using ur cousinly powers 4 evil n i hav gained so much respect 4 u

 **From:** Danny Mahealani, 5:25 pm

i got the whole thing on video this is the best day ever

 **To:** Danny Mahealani, 5:26 pm

thanks danny

 **From:** Danny Mahealani, 5:27 pm

howd u know jackson had such a nice singing voice?

 **From:** Danny Mahealani, 5:28 pm

wait don’t tell him i said that

 **From:** Danny Mahealani, 5:28 pm

his ego doesn’t need that

 **From:** Danny Mahealani, 5:28 pm

delete that text

 **To:** Danny Mahealani, 5:29 pm

it runs in the family. we hales are very gifted orally

 **From:** Danny Mahealani, 5:30 pm

haha do u mean aurally

 **To:** Danny Mahealani, 5:31 pm

sure that too

 **From:** Stiles Stilinski, 5:35 pm

dude i think u just gave danny a nosebleed TEACH ME UR WAYS

 

After helping Derek move into his new house at the end of summer, Scott asks him for help with a tattoo. “I went and got one done already, but, uh,” he rolls up his sleeve and with a bashful smile. “It’s kinda already gone.”

Derek looks down at his completely bare arm and tries not to think of two dark bands circling it. “Why do you want it?”

Scott shrugs. It’s not his I-don’t-know-what-I’m-doing shrug, but his I-don’t-know-how-to-explain-this shrug. Derek hopes it’s not because he’s finally gotten over his breakup with Kira or something. “I just feel like I’ve changed a lot, and I want to…remember, somehow.” He traces two rings in the condensation on the table. “Sometimes I feel like I’m two different people, you know?” he says with laugh. “My life before the bite and my life after…I know it’s only been a year, but it’s completely different.”

Derek clears his throat. “Good different or bad different?”

“Good,” Scott says, nodding firmly. “Definitely good.”

He looks down at the lines Scott had drawn. “Two circles, huh?”

“Yeah.” Scott shrugs again. “I’m always going to be me, but I’ll never be the me I was before, you know?”

Derek remembers Laura sweating and clutching his hand while Aunt Dahlia burned a red firefighter’s helmet into her shoulder after their dad died. He remembers howling and crushing Cora’s fingers while Laura burned a triskele into his back after Kate was sent behind bars for good. He remembers Erica biting clean through her lip with Boyd and Cora on either side while Derek burned the words “big bad” into her wrists a year after she received the bite. He says, “I know,” and clicks on the blowtorch. “This might hurt.”

Stiles eyes the blue flame. _“Might?”_

“No, the pain’s gonna be worse than anything you’ve ever felt,” Derek says. “I was trying to be nice.”

“Yeah, you’re not very good at that,” Stiles says.

Allison helps Stiles hold Scott down on Derek’s couch while Derek sets the blowtorch to his arm. She looks nauseated when his skin bubbles and the scent of charred flesh fills the air. Stiles faints.

After, when Scott wakes up and shows off his tattoo to Stiles and Allison, Derek’s chest tightens and tries not to think of how much he looks like that other teen he’d known. Then Scott looks up at him, beaming and carefree and confident, and the old memory fades away. This will always be Scott. He needs to stop searching his face for a ghost.

He’s already turning away to roll his eyes at Stiles when, for the briefest blink, Scott’s eyes flash red. Stiles is looking the other way, and Allison’s eyes are squeezed shut with laughter, but it flickers for a moment on the edge of Derek’s peripheral vision. He clings to it like a lifesaver. This is the real Scott. This is something different. This is him.

 

Derek laughs for ten minutes straight and ruins at least five wedding photo attempts after he gets to call his best friend Paige Turner for the first time. Roughly half an hour later, Paige tosses her bouquet clean over the crowd of women and nails Derek in the face. He can’t actually tell if Laura or Kenny laughs harder at him while he hands the bouquet over to Cora (she shies away from it like a hot brand) and steps onto the dance floor to join Scott, who has the garter wrapped around his bicep.

“Sorry about this,” Scott says sheepishly while Derek attempts to lead them in a waltz. He mostly succeeds; Scott mostly fails. “I saw it flying at me and panicked. I should’ve just let it drop.”

“Well, it was on Gabe’s thigh for at least ten minutes, it’s gotta be good luck. And at least you caught it with your hand and not your face,” Derek says. Scott laughs, reaches up to brush a stray petal out of his hair, and accidentally steps on Derek’s foot for the third time. “Why are you so terrible at dancing?”

“We can’t all be trained in ballroom dancing,” Scott says reasonably. “How do you even know how to waltz in the first place?”

Derek glances over to where Paige and Laura giggle together and shoots them a glare. They laugh harder. “Laura,” he admits. “She was really into ballroom dance in middle and high school. My cousin, Aaron, was usually her dance partner, but I had to fill in if he wasn’t around.”

Scott presses his lips together in a valiant attempt not to laugh, stumbles over Derek’s feet, and nearly falls over laughing. “I’m sorry,” he gasps. “I’m just picturing you in one of those glittery shirts and tight pants now.”

Derek sighs. He’s never going to hear the end of it now. Stiles will probably photoshop his head onto one of the Dancing With The Stars people. Isaac will probably buy an actual glittery shirt and find a way to blackmail Derek into putting it on. “Well, as long as you’re not imagining me with a flat ass, I guess it’s all for the best.”

Scott trips over his own foot and goes flying; it’s a testament to both Derek’s werewolf reflexes and his years as backup dance partner that he manages to salvage it into a dramatic dip with Scott’s head a few inches from the floor. Mercifully, the song ends a few seconds later, and the hall bursts into applause and wolf whistles. Laura laughs so hard she starts crying into Riley’s shoulder. “Wow,” Scott breathes, glancing sidelong at the floor. “Nice save.”

Derek helps him back upright. “The real miracle is that my pants didn’t rip.”

“Yeah, that was one hell of a lunge. I think Isaac took a picture of your butt.”

 

A week later, Erica somehow assembles pictures of the dip from all angles and creates a goddamn collage dedicated to “Dat Ass.” And then sends a picture of it to basically everyone they both know.

 **From:** Paige Turner!!!!, 11:41 am

OMFG ERICA IS MY NEW FAVORITE

 **From:** Gabe Turner, 11:41 am

As a married man, I can objectively say that that is one NICE butt

 **From:** Kenny WUUHUU, 11:41 am

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

 **From:** Stiles Stilinski, 11:42 am

aww yeah i BET u look good on teh dancefloor

 **From:** Isaac Lahey, 11:42 am

OH OH EVACUATE THE DANCEFLOOR

 **From:** Kenny WUUHUU, 11:42 am

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

 **From:** Danny Mahealani, 11:42 am

i changed my mind, THIS is the best day ever

 **From:** Malia Tate, 11:42 am

why

 **From:** Pippin Galadriel Moonchild, 11:43 am

im traumatized

 **From:** KiraandAllison, 11:43 am

allison says NICE ASS and i agree XD

 **From:** Laura The Magnificent, 11:43 am

little brother i love you but you look like you belong on the cover of one of those bodice ripper novels

 **From:** Kenny WUUHUU, 11:43 am

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

 **From:** Jackson Whittemore, 11:44 am

…what the fuck

Scott leaves a two minute voicemail of himself laughing.

 **From:** Boyd Boyd Boyd Boyd, 12:30 pm

I have nothing to say here. Just thought I’d confirm that yes, everyone you know saw that collage.

 **From:** Boyd Boyd Boyd Boyd, 12:30 pm

Oh, and Cora says she’s traumatized but I’m 96% sure she’s fine.

 **To:** Boyd Boyd Boyd Boyd, 12:31 pm

you’re a good man, boyd

 

Pixies curse them on Mischief Night.

Well, that’s both an over- and understatement. What happens is that, during the full moon, Stiles and Lydia practice a summoning spell in the woods, and while standing guard, Allison accidentally steps into a fairy circle some time after midnight.

A hunter steps into a fairy circle under the Hunter’s Moon right as Mischief Night begins, while a couple of teenagers try to summon the nearest supernatural creature. (Apparently they had been aiming for Malia.) Derek could have told them how stupid their plan was if any of them had bothered to ask.

“In our defense,” Lydia says, “We checked for fairy circles beforehand. There weren’t any, because there have never been fairy circles in the Preserve.” Stiles nods vehemently next to her.

“It’s Mischief Night,” Derek says. He starts to drop his face into his hands, then remembers to keep his mouth uncovered so Lydia can read his lips. “There’s fairy circles _everywhere_ in the Preserve now.”

“Well,” Lydia says, glancing at Stiles, “Now we know that.”

“So,” Allison says, looking ridiculous in Derek’s sunglasses, “I don’t suppose anyone has a seeing-eye dog I can borrow?”

 

The pixies know better than to mess with Talia Hale or Noshiko Yukimura. They don’t even bother Kira or Malia, probably out of respect for fellow trickster spirits. They do, however, mess around with everyone else in the area. Stiles loses his voice, Lydia loses her hearing, and Allison loses her sight. Cora loses her werewolf powers, Boyd gains them, and Isaac and Erica switch bodies. Jackson and Danny can’t go near each other without passing out from severe migraines, and Derek can’t be apart Scott without the same happening to them.

No one’s happy about it. They’re even less thrilled when they find out that the effects will last until the next full moon or until the pixies get bored with them, whichever happens first. (Well, Isaac and Erica are thrilled, and drive to the mall for wardrobe makeovers at the nearest opportunity. Erica doesn’t trip over Isaac’s big feet, and Isaac doesn’t fall over in Erica’s skyscraper heels. Derek’s more than a little disappointed.)

None of them can miss a month of school – well, Lydia probably could, but she insists on going, since she apparently picked up lip-reading when she got bored with archaic Latin – so Mom and Victoria Argent pull strings with the administration so that Derek can guide Allison around school while she recovers from her “head injury,” and so he can be close enough to Scott that he can concentrate through the buzzing in his head.

(When Derek tells Brooke why she needs to take over at the library, she laughs at him for so long that he hangs up on her. She calls him back half an hour later just to laugh at him some more.)

The buzzing gets worse the further apart they are – Derek vomited after ten feet, clutching the ground and sure his skull was going to rattle to pieces – but it doesn’t go away unless they’re directly touching. He never gets used to the buzzing, probably because the pixies made it that way. Instead, he gets used to sitting behind Scott in those awful cramped desks and stretching his legs out to brush Scott’s ankle in class, and he gets used to sitting on the lawn with everyone except the two twins with his knee pressed against Scott’s during lunch. He gets used to sitting on the bleachers with Allison, Lydia, and Ethan – who is apparently in Aiden’s body, but it’s not like Derek ever really managed to tell them apart, anyway – during lacrosse practice. He gets used to driving them all home, since Lydia and Stiles are basically living at Allison’s house for now.

He gets used to helping Melissa McCall with dinner and correcting Scott’s AP Spanish homework, reading Scott’s old summer reading books with a foot propped on Scott’s leg while Scott mutters his way through Calculus and AP Bio. He gets used to falling asleep on the other side of Scott’s bed, the curves of their spines just barely touching, and waking up with Scott sprawled half on top of him and drooling all over his chest because sleeping Scott is a stealth cuddler.

He gets used to being with Scott all the time, and he’s a little unnerved by how natural it feels.

 

He and Scott leave a gift at the fairy circle every night to appease the pixies. Scott probably would have insisted on coming even if he didn’t have to, but it’s nice to walk through the quiet woods together, Scott swinging their joined hands like they’re little kids. They leave guacamole, Lego blocks, bubble tea, a Rubik’s cube, dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets, a holographic postcard of the Golden Gate Bridge. Small snacks and trinkets that would amuse tiny tricksters.

Halfway through November, Derek doesn’t even realize anything’s changed until Stiles calls them in the middle of breakfast, shouting at the top of his lungs that he can talk again. Derek carefully lets go of Scott’s hand, and it takes him a few minutes to notice that his head doesn’t buzz. Maybe he’d gotten used to it, after all.

(Erica starts incorporating cardigans and steel-toe boots into her wardrobe. Isaac starts wearing cherry lip gloss and occasionally corsets.)

 

 **From:** Scott McCall, 12:01 am

hey can i talk to you

Derek looks up from his phone and sees Scott jogging towards him through the trees, not far from the house. “Hey,” he calls. “We could’ve met up closer to Lydia’s party, you know.”

“Nah, I’d rather come here,” Scott says. “Needed the run to clear my head, anyway.”

“All the couples kissing at midnight?” Derek asks sympathetically. Scott still hasn’t stopped talking Derek’s ear off about how happy he is that Stiles and Lydia finally got together, but Derek knows that since Allison and Kira have been together since the beginning of their senior year, that officially makes Scott the fifth wheel out of his group of friends. (Seventh wheel, if he counts Malia and Harley, but that’s still new. Isaac doesn’t count, not because he isn’t a friend but because he just kind of happily unicycles around on his own. Scott’s not meant to be a unicycle, Derek knows. And this metaphor is seriously getting away from him.

Jackson doesn’t count, because cousin or not, Derek still finds that kid annoying.)

“No,” Scott says. “Well, kind of. I mean, the midnight kiss thing is so overdone, and I don’t get why people freak out about it so much, but it got me thinking, you know?”

Derek doesn’t know, but he shrugs in what he hopes is an encouraging sort of way. “Okay,” Scott says, nodding determinedly. “So.” He ducks in and leans up, pressing his lips to Derek’s. His hands are warm against Derek sweater, and his lips are soft against Derek’s chapped ones, and he’s already leaning away before Derek can react.

His eyes flutter open – when had he even closed them, what just happened – to see Scott already awkwardly backing away. “Scott?”

Scott smiles, wobbly and hesitant. “Happy New Year, Derek,” he says, then turns and flees. There’s really no other word to describe it; in the span of a blink, his footsteps have already faded away, and in the next breath, his heartbeat melts into the air.

“Derek?” He turns and sees Paige and Belladonna walking towards him. Paige looks concerned; Belladonna is smirking. She probably heard most of what happened. That’s good. Maybe she can explain it to him. “You okay?” Paige asks.

“We came to check on you, you’d been out here a while,” Belladonna says, still amused. “We used the buddy system just in case you turned out to be dead or something.”

“Well, thanks,” Derek says, trying to muster up sarcasm and failing miserably. He licks his lips; they tingle and taste faintly of mint.

 

“I think Scott kissed me,” Derek says.

Kenny rolls on the floor laughing like the godawful best friend he is. Paige’s entire lip goes white from biting it so hard, because she’s just as bad as him.

Because Belladonna is straightforward about everything, she says, “Honey, there was no thinking involved, there.”

Kenny laughs so hard his leg starts to spasm. “Would you stop _laughing?_ ” Derek demands.

“I can’t,” Kenny gasps. He finally manages to roll onto his back. “C’mon, man, you can’t tell me you didn’t see this coming.”

Derek gapes at him in betrayal. “Was I supposed to?”

“Derek,” Paige says gently, “Scott’s had a crush on you for ages.”

“He _did?_ ” Derek doesn’t even care how squeaky his voice gets. “Was anyone going to tell me about this?”

“I did!” Kenny protests. He sits upright and nearly jabs his finger up Derek’s nostril. “We talked about this like a month ago!”

Derek frowns and tries to think while Gabe hands him a ginger ale for no apparent reason. He’s suffering from confusion, not an upset stomach. “Wait, you mean that one time at nacho night?”

Kenny drops his head into his hands with a groan. “I’m too sober for this,” he declares, and wanders into the kitchen for more drinks. He stumbles and crashes into the wall twice, but that’s beside the point.

The point is that they think Scott has a crush on him. Which is ridiculous, because Scott is just a good friend of his. A good friend who texts him all the time and bothers him at work and hangs out at his house and has a growing collection of crap he forgets on Derek’s dresser and falls asleep on top of him halfway through every movie they watch and he’s gotten used to waking up on Sunday mornings to Scott’s perfect coffee and Scott’s perfect smile and holy shit, _he_ has a crush on _Scott_.

“Oh, no,” Derek says as a cavern of butterflies suddenly burst free in his stomach. The ginger ale makes so much more sense now. He pops the tab and starts chugging.

“Oh, yes,” Paige says dryly.

“Noooo,” Derek says. “He’s a teenager. Oh my god, he’s just a teenager.”

“This is literally the exact same conversation we had at nacho night,” Kenny says. He trips over Belladonna’s leg and apparently gives up trying to move.

“If it makes you feel better, he’ll be eighteen in a few weeks,” Belladonna says. “On the Wolf Moon. So, you know, yay for being legal.”

Derek chokes on the ginger ale. “Wait, what?”

“Yay for being legal?” Belladonna repeats.

“No, before that.”

“Oh. His birthday’s on the Wolf Moon this year,” she says. “And yes, Derek, I keep track of all the little gremlins’ birthdays since everyone knows you’ll forget.”

“A werewolf turning eighteen on the Wolf Moon, that’s pretty cool,” Gabe says.

“Maybe he gets a special birthday wolf boost for the night,” Kenny says hopefully.

“We’re not actually video game characters, Kenny,” Belladonna says.

Scott was eighteen. Scott was eighteen when he met Derek during the night of the Wolf Moon. But that Scott – it doesn’t mean anything. They’re not the same person. They’re not. Derek swallows and tries to ignore the ice settling in his stomach. Nothing’s going to happen.

 

_“I’m sorry,” Derek says._

_Scott stares at him like he’s crazy. “What?” he asks. “Why – sorry for_ what? _”_

_“For whatever I did that made you come back here.”_

_Scott’s face crumbles. “Derek,” he says. “Derek, you didn’t do anything. I came back because I wanted to.”_

_He’s a terrible liar. “What went wrong?” he asks._

_“I can’t tell you.”_

_Derek feels his fists clench. “Then what was the point of coming back?” he demands. “If you don’t tell me, I can’t change anything! It’ll just all go wrong again!”_

_“It won’t,” Scott says._

_“Oh, really,” Derek says. “And how do you know that?”_

_“Because I trust you,” he says simply. His heart thumps evenly. “I trust you, Derek Hale.”_

_Derek swallows. No one’s ever told him that before. “I’ll do my best not to let you down,” he says._

_Scott smiles. “You won’t. The entire time I’ve known you, Derek, you’ve never let me down. You never will.”_

_Derek throws his arms around Scott’s neck. “Thanks, Scott,” he says thickly. Scott nods against his shoulder and squeezes him tight. “But if I find out later that you just fell in love with a photo of me, I’m gonna be so disappointed.”_

_Scott laughs, but doesn’t let go. Derek doesn’t mind, since he’s a great hugger. “I promise, Derek,” he says, “I did not fall in love with a photograph.”_

 

Scott hides from Derek through the rest of January. It’s for the best, since Derek spends the rest of January panicking about the full moon and trying to hide his completely irrational panic about the full moon from everyone else.

He doesn’t do a very good job of hiding it, but everyone assumes he’s panicking over The Kiss (Isaac says it in capital letters and everything), and he’s more than happy to let them believe that. He’s fine with looking like a smacked ass for a month if it means he can finally put everything about that damned Wolf Moon behind him.

It’s weird. He wants to meet the other Scott again, but he also wants to tuck this Scott – _his_ Scott – under his arm and run the hell away from here and keep him safe from whatever made him into that other Scott. Will make? Might have made? Might _still_ make?

See, this is why he wants to see the other Scott again. He’s sick of stumbling around in the dark and hoping he did all right (he didn’t, he messed everything up, he got Scott bit against his will in the dark woods and he let his own cousin get turned into a mindless murder weapon). He wants the whole story, and he wants to know what to do to keep Scott safe. He thinks he could live with that knowledge, with being the only person to know what terrible things could have happened – _did_ happen, to a different version of them – if it meant that everyone else got to be safe.

And, selfishly, he wants to thank that other Scott. He’s not sure what changed and what didn’t, but some must have because Scott still doesn’t feel like Other Scott, right? He has no idea if things are worse or better than they were – could have been – but…he’s happy. And for all that Scott’s advice burned him sometimes, it never truly led him astray. He’s happy, and Scott is happy, and Derek wishes he could thank the other Scott for that.

But maybe it would be cruel, for that other Scott to see what he would never have. Maybe that was why he’d cried, at the very end. Maybe he knew he was rewriting something that he would never get, and he’d had to go back and live out his life as terrible as it had always been.

That would be so unfair, though. To risk so much and give some complete stranger a fighting chance, when he would never get to reap the benefits? That’s not fair at all. That’s just…that’s the worst sort of sacrifice.

That sounds exactly like something Scott would do.

He digs into Unc – into _his_ magic library with a single-minded desperation. Lydia had translated the indexes and tables of contents from the ancient language books, so he doesn’t have many left to look through. It may not even be here, he doesn’t know what kind of resources they’d had, they may have found the spell somewhere else, but if there’s the possibility he can find it, then he has to.

It’s a tiny book, shoved far back into the shelves and wedged between slats. The cover claims to be a collection of fairy tales, but the pages inside have clearly been replaced by a chapter in what seems to be regular Latin. He sits down with the book and Lydia’s Latin binder and painstakingly works through the translations himself. It takes a week, but the spell he ends up with looks an awful lot like the one that had brought that other Scott to him. The duration of one full moon, a simple incantation, and no raw materials. Drawn back at moonrise, pulled forward at moonset. A rippling effect throughout the timeline, the old completely erased and replaced with the new.

He puts the book down. That other Scott is gone. They’re all gone. He’ll never be able to find out what had happened before, or thank him for giving everything up and placing so much trust in an immature fifteen-year-old boy.

He takes careful notes, the way he would with any other research project. Not everything adds up to what he knows – knew – about that Scott, but he doesn’t know the details of their spell. Obviously, they found enough power to generate it, somehow. None of his notes seem to indicate that Scott’s beta werewolf power could have been enough to seal the spell, though. There’s something about life and memory and closure, but he probably didn’t translate it well enough to make any sense.

There is something about the timelines converging, though, and while it’s incredibly vague, it doesn’t sound particularly fun.

On Scott’s eighteenth birthday, Derek takes the coward’s way out and hides. His skin itches and he can’t sit still, and he runs until he ends up in some abandoned apartment complex at the edge of town. He paces around a loft with a giant hole in the wall, turns his phone on silent, and watches the sun set through the window. He just has to wait for the moon to set, and then he’ll go apologize to Scott. Everything will be fine.

Then the sun sinks below the horizon, and he feels a horrible lurching in his stomach. Before he can think straight enough to react, his feet send him running out of the building and into Deaton’s clinic. He bursts through the back room door to see Stiles, Lydia, Malia, and Kira huddled around Scott’s limp body on the floor. Malia looks up first. “Derek!” she shouts. “He just fainted, what’s going on?”

“He fainted?” Derek asks. His body moves on autopilot, clearing an exam table and dragging it to the center of the room, gently cradling Scott to his chest and laying him down while Stiles hovers next to him and Kira runs to find blankets.

“He screamed,” Lydia says. “It sounded…” Her eyes glaze before she shakes herself. “It sounded like he was dying.”

He can feel Scott’s heart beating steadily as ever under his hand, and he can see Scott’s chest rising and falling as easily as if he were asleep. “He’s alive,” he says. “I don’t know if he’s okay, but he’s alive.” He frowns. He knows why he’s here, this is where he met Scott ten years ago. But, “What are you guys doing here?”

Kira comes back with an armful of blankets smelling faintly of detergent. She wraps one around Scott, and Stiles folds the other carefully to tuck under his head. “We were on our way to the house,” he says. Derek blinks; he must have missed his mother’s house becoming just “the house” to Scott’s friends and not just Derek’s family. It shoots warmth briefly through him. “But then Scott realized he’d forgotten his jacket here, and he said there was something important in one of the pockets, so we _had_ to stop here to get it. Then when he came in here, he just screamed and collapsed.” He wraps a shaking hand around Scott’s. “Derek, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Derek says honestly. “I really wish I did. This isn’t normal.”

Stiles barks out something between a laugh and a sob. “Is he going to be okay?”

“I…” He feels Scott’s forehead. His temperature is elevated, but no moreso than a werewolf’s would be during a full moon. His heartbeat and breathing are regular. “So far, everything seems okay,” he says slowly, pulling his hand away. Then he freezes when he sees the droplets of blood on his fingers, and pushes Scott’s hair back to look at his forehead.

“Is he _sweating blood?_ ” Kira gasps.

“Hematohidrosis,” Lydia says, staring down at Scott. “Hematidrosis. A very rare condition of sweating blood. Said to occur when a person is suffering from extreme levels of fear or stress, such as facing…” She swallows. “…their own death.”

“Is he dying?” Stiles leans over and grabs Lydia’s arm so hard that her skin goes white under his fingers. “Lydia, is Scott dying?”

“I…I don’t.” Lydia looks up at Derek. “Derek, I don’t hear anything. I don’t feel _anything_. That’s good, right? That means he’s not dying, right?”

“I don’t know,” Derek says helplessly. “I think so, maybe, but I don’t know.” He fumbles for his phone. “We should call…” he begins, and trails off. His phone is completely dead. “My phone’s dead,” he says calmly. “Could someone call Deaton and my mother?”

They pull out their phones and find them dead as well. “That’s impossible,” Malia says. “It was at full battery when we got here. But we can just howl for them, right, Derek? You can just call for your alpha and Aunt Talia’ll hear you.”

Derek shakes his head. “Not in here,” he says. “Deaton has heavy wards on the place. It’s basically soundproof.”

“Oh, great,” Stiles says. He slumps down as much as he can without letting go of Scott’s hand. “That’s just great.”

“It’s okay,” Kira says firmly. “Stiles, give me your keys, I’ll just drive to the house and tell them.”

“Okay, yeah, okay,” Stiles says, digging into his pocket and pulling out a set of keys. “It’s the-”

“This one, I know,” Kira says, holding up a key. Sunlight glints off it and hits Derek squarely in the eye; he flinches and blinks dark spots from his vision.

“How is the sun coming up?” Lydia asks disbelievingly, turning to glare at the window. She has to shield her eyes against the sunlight flooding through the window. “We just got here. The sun had just gone _down_.”

Kira glances hesitantly at the door. “I should go fast, then.”

“Wait.” Derek feels their gazes shift to him, but he stares intently down at Scott as the sunlight pours over his face. Scott’s brow creases, his cheeks twitch, and then his eyes shoot open, blood red and panicked. He sits bolt upright and clamps his hands around Derek’s head. “No,” he mumbles, gaze flickering all over his face. “No, it didn’t work.”

“Scott?” Derek asks hesitantly. Scott’s red eyes bear into his and force his fangs and claws out as he feels his eyes change. Scott’s eyes widen, and his hands drop away as he stumbles back. “Derek,” he breathes. “Your eyes.”

“My…eyes?” Derek asks. He reaches forward blindly and clasps Scott’s hand between both of his. “Scott, what happened? What,” He swallows, pulls his features back to human, and tries again. “What do you remember?”

Scott’s eyes sharpen with sudden clarity. Derek’s breath catches as he gazes back at that other Scott, tired eyes full of wisdom and jaw set against unfathomable weight. It’s everything he’s dreaded, everything he didn’t want for Scott. He hears himself faintly whisper, “No.”

Scott’s face crumples, and his gaze drops to their clasped hands. “I…” he mumbles, pulling his hand back and clumsily pushing himself away. “I’m sorry, I…”

He sounds so young and uncertain and painfully insecure, and Derek’s heart leaps in his chest. “Scott?” he tries, one last time, and Scott reluctantly drags his eyes back up to Derek’s face. There’s no weight, no battle scars, no war-torn veteran. Just Scott. _His_ Scott. Derek breathes in relief.

Then Scott slips clean off the table and knocks himself out against the floor.

 

_Scott’s shoulders tremble, and Derek looks up to see tears streaming silently down his face. “You’re crying,” he says._

_Scott blinks in surprise, as if he hadn’t realized it. “Sorry,” he says, wiping blindly at his face with the back of his hand. “I just…I don’t want to leave.”_

_“But you’re going back,” Derek says, confused. “You’re going back to everyone you know and love. You don’t want to stay here, do you? It’s really boring, nothing ever happens.”_

_Scott laughs, but it sounds more like a sob. “Yeah,” he says. “That’s Beacon Hills.” He shivers. “I’m just scared, I guess. I’m,” He shudders heavily. “I’m so scared, Derek.”_

_Derek scoots closer and squeezes Scott’s hand between both of his own. “You’re going to be okay, Scott,” he promises. “I know you will. And when you come back, or, when you show up in my timeline, I guess,” He shrugs his shoulders. “I’ll be waiting for you.”_

_“Don’t wait for me, Derek,” Scott says. “I won’t be who you think I am. I’m not even who you think I am_ now _.”_

_“That doesn’t matter,” Derek says. He lifts Scott’s hand and presses a kiss to his tear-stained knuckles. “I know you’ll come back.”_

_Scott stares at him, suddenly looking younger and more lost than Derek himself. “You’ll wait for me?” he asks, as if his entire existence depends on Derek’s answer._

_Derek nods firmly. “I will,” he says. “I promise, Scott.”_

_Scott swallows and stares down at their joined hands. “Thank you, Derek,” he says hoarsely. He reaches up with one handle to cradle Derek’s face. “Thank you for everything.”_

_Something pricks into his neck. He slides to the floor, limbs heavy, and his vision blurs. He barely feels Scott’s hand leave his face as a syringe drops to the floor._

_Light slowly pours into the room, creeping over their feet. Derek’s hand tingles as Scott lets go, and his eyes slide shut. “I’ll come back,” he hears, maybe. He fades into darkness._

 

_The sun has just begun to peek over the horizon when Derek runs into Deaton’s clinic. He bursts through the back room door to see Stiles, Lydia, Malia, and Kira huddled around an empty space on the floor. Lydia breathes faintly, her head resting in Stiles’ lap, and her heartbeat sounds so weak. Kira’s foxfire is so dimmed he can barely see it, and Malia’s frame is thin and gaunt. Stiles’ hands shake as he cards his fingers through Lydia’s hair. She whispers something, but even with his ears strained Derek can’t hear it._

_“He’s gone,” Stiles says. His voice is flat and dull. Malia and Kira lean heavily on Derek; Malia’s skin feels molten, and Kira is cold as ice. “It’s done.”_

_Derek leans Kira onto his shoulder. Her head lolls limply. He has to strain his ears to hear Malia’s heart. “It’s over,” he says._

_“No,” Lydia whispers in a voice as frail as cobwebs. Derek holds his breath to hear her. “It’s beginning.” She exhales in a tiny sigh, and her eyes slide shut. Kira is still beside him, and the bones of Malia’s hand crumble under his touch. Stiles sits as rigid as a statue, skin taut and gray. The entire room feels like it’s holding its breath._

_The sun floods the room with light. Derek looks down at his own hands, near-blinding in the bright glow. He turns and stares down the sun. He doesn’t blink, not when the light burns him down to his bones and his eyes are seared out of his skull. He doesn’t feel a thing._


	3. 2013

_I let you down._

_Scott, I let you down, and I’m so sorry._

 

He woke up and Derek said, “No.”

It’s foolish, selfish, even, to cling to the words that a naïve boy had said ten years ago – it feels like it was yesterday, it _was_ yesterday, but the changes in Derek’s body are even starker now, a filled-out frame and face devoid of puppy fat and, god, the beginnings of _laughter lines_ – but Scott hadn’t thought that Derek would flat-out reject him.

(But it makes sense, doesn’t it? He’d essentially been a harbinger of doom when he’d traveled back to meet Derek. That may have seemed cool to a young boy, when the future was an eternity away, but to a grown man who’s nearly died more than once because of Scott himself? It doesn’t matter that banshees never actually killed people in the myths, people feared their wails all the same. The messenger is just as dreaded as the message itself.)

His mind’s a mess. Memories jumble and crash into each other and meld together. Derek carries his mother’s claws in a wooden jar, and Talia Hale teaches Scott how to glaze the sugar for crème brûlée. Malia introduces Scott to her little sister, and Scott roars her back into her human form for the first time in nearly a decade. Isaac sobs, broken, “Boyd’s dead,” and Scott looks up into the bleachers to see Erica holding the other end of Boyd’s sign. Derek grabs his hand and says, “I love you,” and Derek flinches back from him and says, “No.”

He wakes up, again, and blinks up at a white ceiling, with a blue splatter next to the light from when Cora scared Isaac in the middle of painting. There’s Chippen, Derek’s stuffed jaguar with wonky teeth, sitting on the dresser like she always has. The house isn’t burned. The Hales aren’t dead. Laura isn’t here, but that’s because she lives in Sunnyvale with her own pack, now.

“Good morning, Scott.” Talia helps him sit up with gentle hands on his back. “Everyone’s safe. Everyone’s fine. You’ve only been out for a few hours. Kira, Malia, and Lydia are having breakfast downstairs. Stiles is supposed to be, too, but I couldn’t get him further from you than right outside that door.” Scott looks at the door and hears the comforting thump of Stiles’ heartbeat. “And Derek’s with Deaton. He’s assured me that you’ll be fine, and that you should drink this to help get your strength back.” She holds out a mug with a straw sticking out of it.

Scott sniffs it warily. It smells of chemicals and fake fruit. “What is it?” he asks.

The corner of Talia’s mouth quirks. “Gatorade. The straw and the handle are just to make things easier for you.”

“Oh.” Scott sips it and, yup, it’s just blue Gatorade. Stiles probably told them it was his favorite flavor. “There’s no…Deaton didn’t add anything to it, right?”

She laughs. “No, Scott. You’re an alpha now; you’ll heal faster than you ever have in your life.”

“Oh,” Scott says again as a lump settles in his throat. That actually happened, then. He lost and regained his alpha powers in one night. Or ten years. Or eighteen years. He’s not actually sure. But if he’s an alpha, and Talia Hale and the rest of her pack are still alive… “So do I have to leave, then?”

“What?” Talia’s eyebrows shoot up, and she laughs in surprise. “Scott, you may be an alpha, but you’re just a child. You still need to finish your education. Why would you have to leave?”

“Well, Laura,” Scott begins awkwardly. She’d become an alpha after…Peter…and she’d had to leave, because two alphas in one town and one pack don’t make any sense. He’d never really understood the logic behind the Alpha Pack – but that’s not right, that never happened, Deucalion never killed his friends and threatened his family. Deucalion is dead. There is – was – no Alpha Pack.

“Laura left because she was an adult, and she was ready to lead her own pack,” Talia says, gently laying a hand over his. “And most importantly, she had a pack that needed her. You’re an alpha now, Scott, but you’re still young. You can leave our pack and start your own if you wish, but I won’t force you to leave. And I certainly won’t force you to leave your home.”

“But two alphas in one pack make no sense,” he says, confused. Kali and Ennis and Julia make sense because they’re all equals, they all lead. But Scott isn’t Talia’s equal, she’s stronger than him, she’s more powerful than him, she’s better than him.

“You’re a True Alpha,” Talia says. “Those who become True Alphas are the best leaders because they don’t seek it out.” She nudges the mug and gestures for him to keep drinking. “I’ve known you for years, Scott. I know you won’t challenge me, and I know you won’t try to steal my power. And honestly, Deaton has been expecting this for a while.”

“Really?”

She nods, ignoring the squeak in his voice. “He’s good at predicting these sorts of things, and I’ve always trusted his instincts. I’m going to help you become a better alpha, Scott – we all are. And with time, you’ll begin to build your own pack. In fact, I strongly suspect your first member is right outside that door.”

“Damn straight!” Stiles says, throwing the door open. They wince as it bangs against the wall. “Sorry,” he says. “But it seemed like a good time to make a dramatic entrance.”

Talia smiles indulgently and pats Scott’s head. “We’re done here,” she tells Stiles. “But do make sure to let him rest. Alpha or no, he still went through an ordeal last night.”

Stiles bounds into the room and hops onto the bed. “How you feeling, man?” he asks with a slightly shaky smile. “You scared us last night.”

“Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to.” Except he did mean to, he did all of it on purpose, he wiped all of their lives clean and washed it all away and he meant every bit of it. And looking at Stiles with his bright eyes and his close-shaven head and a slight tightness to his mouth that Scott knows will fade once he’s up and out of this bed again, he knows that he made the right decision. Stiles isn’t haunted. Lydia isn’t haunted. Derek isn’t haunted. Scott is haunted, but that’s a small price to pay. “Thanks for the Gatorade,” he adds, holding up the mug.

He shrugs. “There’s a ton of blue Gatorade in this house,” he says. “I had to fight Kira for the last red one. Well, I tried to fight her for it but she gave it to me right away and then I felt bad watching her gag on the blue stuff so we shared it, but my point is, they stock so much blue Gatorade here, Scott.” He shakes his head. “So much blue Gatorade.”

“More for me, then,” Scott says. “How is everyone?”

“Lydia’s pretty excited about you being an alpha,” Stiles says. “Says you can help her power some spells she’s been wanting to try out. I tell ya, Derek’s been giving her way too much freedom with his library. She’s probably going to end up blowing something up.”

“Well, she already has,” Scott says easily. “Remember the Molotov cocktails?”

He doesn’t realize his mistake until Stiles’ face goes white, then red, then settles into some unfortunate sort of blotchy complexion. “That didn’t happen,” he hisses. “Who told you?”

“What?” Shit. Shit. That was when Peter was the alpha, and Derek was the enemy, and they were trapped late at night and Allison watched him change into someone she didn’t know anymore…

“It was Isaac, wasn’t it?” Stiles continues, though. Scott exhales in relief. “He can never keep secrets from you, I keep telling him to resist the puppy eyes, but that just takes years of experience. _Decades_.”

“We’re not even twenty yet,” Scott says, amused. At least he knows what happened now, that time with the explosions at the old mall. He hadn’t known Lydia was involved, but now that he does, he can’t say he’s too surprised. Lydia and Stiles didn’t begin to really bond until they realized their mutual intellect and deviousness.

(Scott would like to think that one day Stiles will bond with another person out of the mutual goodness of their hearts, but he already bonded with Kira through their mutual social awkwardness and she was kind of his last shot.)

“Still.” Stiles points at him with narrowed eyes. “You use those precious little orbs of joy for evil.”

“‘Precious little orbs of joy?’”

“I didn’t get much sleep, man, cut me some slack here. And don’t tell anyone about the Molotov cocktails.” He pushes the Gatorade closer to Scott’s face. “And drink the rest of that, man, Deaton said you need the electrolytes or whatever.”

Scott dutifully drains the rest of the mug. “I won’t tell anyone, promise.”

“Not even Allison.”

Scott makes a face at him. “Dude.” He may have gone through an admittedly embarrassing phase when his world revolved around Allison – and come on, he was a brand new werewolf and he almost died – but he got over that years ago, thank you very much. One full year, for sure.

“Not even Derek _._ ”

_“Dude!”_

Stiles just stares back at him. “Don’t even try to lie to me, Scotty. I bet you if I tried to unlock your phone right now I’d get the password on the first try. In fact,” he dives for Scott’s Samsung Galaxy S4 on the nightstand, wiggling out of Scott’s grasp and landing on the floor with a shout of triumph. “Let’s see, five numbers…” He pauses to shoot Scott a sardonic look.

 _“Stiles,”_ Scott whines. He launches himself off the bed and flat onto Stiles’ back just as Derek appears in the doorway with a tray of food. Derek blinks down at them. “Um.”

“Derek!” Stiles shoves the Samsung across the floor at his foot. “Quick, unlock it!”

He puts the tray down on the dresser and bends to pick up the phone. “Why should I?” he asks. “Besides, I don’t know the password.”

Stiles wraps his limbs around Scott like an octopus, preventing him from getting up. “33735! Do it! I’m trying to prove a point!”

Scott watches with growing horror as Derek types in the password. “I don’t get it,” Derek says.

“Ha!” Stiles leaps up and swipes the unlocked Samsung from his hand. “I told you that – hey!” He looks at the background and frowns. “What’s this ugly picture of Isaac doing here?”

Scott slumps on the floor in relief. He’s never been happier to find out Isaac messed with his phone again. “It’s a good picture,” Derek says, looking at it over Stiles’ shoulder. “The lighting highlights his cheekbones.” He nods to the tray of food. “You should eat before the food gets cold. There’s plenty more downstairs. I’ll, uh, leave you to your point or whatever.” He hesitates awkwardly, then leaves.

“Well,” Stiles says, frowning down at the phone. “That could have gone better. I guess Isaac messed with your phone again, because I’m your best friend and you would have told me about your epic crush on him-”

“I don’t have an epic crush on him,” Scott says.

“-and also, you don’t have the photography skill to take this picture,” Stiles says, holding up the phone. It’s true. Scott’s never allowed to take group pictures because part of his finger inevitably ends up in the frame, or the whole thing focuses on a leaf instead or something. “Damn,” Stiles says, admiring the photo. “How does he manage to do that with his jawline?”

“Genetics,” Scott mumbles, rubbing at his own jaw self-consciously.

Stiles looks up. “Hey,” he says, shoving at him good-naturedly, “Your jawline is _unique_. It’s one-of-a-kind. If I was brought in to identify your body by only your jawline, I would instantly know if it was you.”

Scott smiles. Stiles says the sweetest things. “Thanks, dude.”

“Why would you have to identify him by only his _jawline?_ ” Allison asks from the doorway.

They shrug together. “You never know,” Stiles says.

“Okay,” Allison says, still looking vaguely horrified. “Well, Derek sent me up with some hot chocolate.”

Scott takes the mug and smells cinnamon and nutmeg mixed in, just like how his mom makes it. “You even remembered the marshmallows,” he says, drinking happily. “Thanks!”

“Thank Derek,” Allison says, smiling wryly. “He went all-out with it. I think it’s his version of stress-baking.”

“Oh, he went all-out, did he?” Stiles asks, waggling his eyebrows at Scott. “How convenient that hot chocolate just so happens to be Scott’s favorite comfort drink.”

“Hot chocolate is plenty of people’s favorite comfort drink, shut up,” Scott says. “I’m an invalid or whatever, give me my breakfast.”

 

 **To:** Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood, 1:22 pm

DAMMIT ISAAC WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY CONTACTS

 **From:** Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood, 1:23 pm

haha this is danny. did he mess with ur phone again?

 **To:** Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood, 1:23 pm

shit. he always makes himself legolas bc hes the prettiest

 **From:** Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood, 1:24 pm

ooh im legolas? tell him im v flattered

 **To:** Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood, 1:24 pm

NO

 **To:** Arwen Undomiel, The Evenstar, 1:26 pm

YOU WANNA PLAY HARDBALL IM GAME

 **From:** Arwen Undomiel, The Evenstar, 1:28 pm

um

 **To:** Arwen Undomiel, The Evenstar, 1:28 pm

…youre not isaac, are you

 **From:** Arwen Undomiel, The Evenstar, 1:28 pm

no, this is derek

 **To:** Arwen Undomiel, The Evenstar, 1:29 pm

i am so sorry

 **To:** Arwen Undomiel, The Evenstar, 1:29 pm

isaac renamed all my contacts

 **To:** Tauriel, Daughter of Mirkwood, 1:32 pm

hey allison can you send me isaacs #? he messed w my contacts

 **From:** Arwen Undomiel, The Evenstar, 1:32 pm

okay nvm then sorry

 **From:** Tauriel, Daughter of Mirkwood, 1:33 pm

again? lol

 **From:** Tauriel, Daughter of Mirkwood, 1:33 pm

nah i think its more fun this way

 **To:** Tauriel, Daughter of Mirkwood, 1:34 pm

ET TU BRUTUS

 **From:** Dernhelm, Rider of Rohan, 1:34 pm

Derek just asked me if hardball was a euphemism. I’m going to assume it was your fault.

 **From:** Tauriel, Daughter of Mirkwood, 1:35 pm

WE SHOULD TOTALLY JUST STAB CAESAR

 **To:** Dernhelm, of Rohan, 1:35 pm

is that you boyd???

 **From:** Tauriel, Daughter of Mirkwood, 1:36 pm

good luck! :D

 **From:** Dernhelm, Rider of Rohan, 1:36 pm

Yeah, sorry, I’m using Cora’s phone. Mine died.

 **To:** Dernhelm, Rider of Rohan, 1:37 pm

sorry, isaac messed w my contacts

 **From:** Dernhelm, Rider of Rohan, 1:38

That doesn’t actually explain anything, but I don’t want to know.

 **To:** Gimli, son of Gloin, Kili of Durin’s Line, Faramir, Steward of Gondor, Eomer, King of Rohan, 1:40 pm

ITS A FULL MOON TONIGHT AND WERE GETTIN

 **From:** Kili of Durin’s Line, 1:40 pm

no its not? r u ok do u need me to come over

 **From:** Gimli, son of Gloin, 1:41 pm

what the fuck mccall

 **From:** Eomer, King of Rohan, 1:41 pm

ROWDY YEAH WE GETTIN ROWDY GETGETGETTIN ROWDY

 **To:** Eomer, King of Rohan, 1:41 pm

HA I FOUND YOU ISAAC

 **To:** Eomer, King of Rohan, 1:42 pm

i knew you wouldnt be able to resist the sweet lure of pop lyrics

 **From:** Eomer, King of Rohan, 1:42 pm

curses

 **From:** Eomer, King of Rohan, 1:42 pm

my one true weakness

 **To:** Kili of Durin’s Line, 1:42 pm

sorry i texted the wrong person. no worries kira im all good

 **From:** Kili of Durin’s Line, 1:43 pm

oh ok glad ur ok!

 **To:** Eomer, King of Rohan, 1:43 pm

send me your answer key for my phone

 **From:** Eomer, King of Rohan, 1:44 pm

fine, but only if u ask arwen to draw u like one of ur french girls

 **To:** Eomer, King of Rohan, 1:44 pm

IM NOT GONNA ASK DEREK THAT WTF

 **From:** Eomer, King of Rohan, 1:45 pm

boo u whore

 **From:** Samwise The Brave, 1:51 pm

hey who is this

 **To:** Samwise The Brave, 1:51 pm

dude stiles did isaac change your contacts too??? this is scott btw

 **From:** Samwise The Brave, 1:52 pm

nah, just ur #

 **From:** Samwise The Brave, 1:52 pm

for some reason ur now estel

 **To:** Samwise The Brave, 1:54 pm

…that little shit

 **To:** Samwise The Brave, 1:54 pm

i dont think dereks seen liar liar

 **From:** Samwise The Brave, 1:55 pm

oh no wat did u do

 **To:** Samwise The Brave, 1:55 pm

nothing!

 **From:** Samwise The Brave, 1:56 pm

uh huh sure

 

_I never wanted this for you_

_I should have realized it sooner, when I still could have done something about it_

_I was supposed to protect you_

_I’m sorry_

 

He digs through his school supplies and finds a nearly-blank notebook. He locks his door, locks his window, puts his AT&T phone on Airplane mode, and writes down everything he remembers, from Stiles’ stories about Paige, and Cora’s about the hunters and Ennis’ beta, and their own guesses about the fire, and then all through high school. His hand shakes when he gets to Erica, and again when he gets to the patchwork of stories they’d told him about Boyd, and when he gets to Allison, he has to stop and cry into his pillow. He writes everything he knows about planning the spell, and then he flips past a few blank pages and writes everything he remembers about the night he met Derek one week and ten years and an eternity ago.

Deaton doesn’t seem surprised when Scott holds out the notebook, and he looks even less surprised when Scott asks him to lock it away somewhere safe. He disappears into his office and comes back with a box, uses a drop of Scott’s blood to break the seal, and lifts the lid to reveal a notebook identical to the one Scott holds, if a little aged and stiff. “You wrote this a week before you traveled,” he says, picking it up and holding it out to Scott. “Brought it back with you and left it with me for safekeeping.”

The inside cover is dated January 19, 2013 in thick black marker and January 18, 2003 in blue pen underneath. The contents of the pages are identical to the notebook Scott had just filled, down to the penmanship and the wobbling over Allison’s name and violently scratching out the word “corpse” after he wrote Erica’s name for the last time. The only differences are the date on his newer notebook, February 2, 2013, and the extra pages from his meeting with Derek.

“Shit,” Scott says. He remembers now, writing the new date down and giving Deaton the notebook, sealing the box shut with his own blood before Deaton let a young teenaged Derek into the room. It’s real. It all happened.

“I had a hard time believing you, myself,” Deaton says. He chuckles when Scott snorts. “No, really. If you hadn’t mentioned Malia in that letter, I might not have. Talia never told a soul about her or Jackson. I only knew because I locked her own memories away.”

Scott traces a circle on the table with his finger. “Is that why no one helped her, the first time? Because no one knew?”

Deaton watches him sadly. “I don’t know.” He holds up an old single subject notebook that Scott doesn’t recognize, and flips the cover open to show the dates, January 19, 2003 and January 27, 2013, in Derek’s handwriting. “He had the same idea you did,” Deaton says. “Didn’t tell me about it the first time, came back and gave it to me last week. I think he decided it was time to let it go.”

“Let it go, yeah,” Scott parrots absently, staring at the notebook. He wants to read it, wants to see what Derek thought before and what he thinks now. He wants to know how much of him Derek wanted to let go.

(All of it, he knows. Derek doesn’t want anything to do with the Scott that had visited him all those years and last week ago – no, it’s not that confusing, it was ten years ago and nothing else for him. And Scott wants nothing more than to be that kid from eight days ago again, but he can’t, he’ll never be just him again. He squeezes the tattoo around his arm and wonders if Derek had guessed, even then.)

Deaton shuts the notebook and lays it on top of Scott’s identical ones. “I agree with him,” he says mildly. “Regardless of your past, Scott, _this_ is your future. Those memories are simply memories.” He puts a comforting hand on Scott’s shoulder. “It won’t be easy to tease them apart in your mind, but one day you will. Things won’t always be this confusing.”

“I can’t just let it go,” Scott says numbly. “I can’t – it’s part of me. It’s who I _am_. I can’t let go of who I already am.”

“Do you want to?” Deaton asks.

“I-” Scott begins, then stops. Of course he does. Of course he doesn’t want these memories in his head anymore, of course he only wants what really happened. But they both happened. And Stiles, Lydia, Allison, Kira, Isaac, Malia, _Derek_ – does he really want them gone forever? He gave them up once. He doesn’t know if he can do it again. “I don’t know.”

“Think about it,” Deaton says. “It’s not about what you think you should do. It’s about what you truly want.”

 

Talia starts teaching him more and more about werewolf culture and pack laws. Erica and Isaac join them sometimes, jumping in with their more advanced knowledge, and Jackson sits in, too, nodding along to some of the family ties that Scott can’t feel and struggles to understand.

“Names matter, Scott,” Talia tells him, when it’s just the two of them and the Hale family tree. “The pack’s past, present, future – it’s all tied to the name. Our pack has carried the name Hale for centuries, and we continue to carry that name because history matters. But that doesn’t mean that is our only name.” She points at Derek’s uncles, married into the family. “Marcus and Lucas are the last of their family, and they chose to keep the name Laroche because their history is just as important as ours. Aaron and Johanna chose their fathers’ names to preserve that history.”

She taps Laura’s name. “The Leon pack. Their family isn’t as large as ours, and they have many different names, but their alpha has been a Leon for the past eighty years. Laura will always be a Hale, but the pack carries the Leon name. Her children will take their father’s name, unless they choose otherwise when they’re older. The history matters, and the name matters.”

“What about the Bacari pack?” Scott asks. “Both alphas took their emissary’s name.”

“They did,” Talia says, nodding. “Why do you think they did that?”

He thinks for a moment, mulling over what he knows about pack politics. “The alpha – or alphas, in their case,” he adds, “is the leader. The emissary is the advisor, ranked second but still technically below the alpha. But the pack is tied to the name, so that elevates the Bacari name, and it puts her at the same level as the alphas. It equalizes all three of them, the way that they really are.” He looks up. “Did I get that right?”

“You’re a fast learner, Scott,” she says, eyes crinkling at the corners just like Derek’s. “And you’ll be a wise alpha, when your pack grows. Whether it is with ours or entirely yours, your name will start a new chapter in our culture’s history. It’s not that often we get to see a True Alpha like you, Scott McCall.”

“Yeah, that’s me,” he says, a pit settling unsteadily in the bottom of his stomach. “True Alpha McCall.”

He hasn’t seen his father since he left them when Scott was a kid and Claudia and Stiles came over nearly every day in the aftermath, since that disastrous attempt at staying with him in middle school that culminated in him leaving town for good. He hasn’t heard from him in five years.

But in another time, his father came back. FBI Agent McCall, doing his job in the most vindictive way possible and making such selfishly clumsy attempts to climb back into Scott’s life. He didn’t need him then, and he doesn’t need him now. He may have wanted him back, once, but he saw him when he came back, and he was just as disappointing as ever. He doesn’t want anything to do with Agent McCall.

 

“Mom,” he says, a month after his eighteenth birthday, “Can I ask you something?”

She looks up from chopping tomatoes, slightly confused and slightly worried. “Yeah, of course.”

“Why didn’t you-” He stops. That sounds accusatory. He’s not – he just wants to know, that’s all. “How come you never changed your name back to Delgado?”

Her face softens. “Do you mean, why did I keep your father’s name?”

His spine prickles at the word _father_. Yes, technically, that man is his father, but he didn’t – he barely raised him. He didn’t learn anything from him. Stiles’ dad is more of a father to him than Agent McCall ever will be. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Mom says, nodding. “Because it’s your name, too, honey.”

He blinks past tears that sting his eyes as a lump settles in his throat. She pulls him in and presses a kiss to the top of his head. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too, Mom.”

Names matter. He’s legally an adult, he’s an alpha, he has a choice. Dahlia Hale helps him through the legal process to change his last name to Delgado. A weight lifts off his chest when he tucks his new driver’s license into his wallet (and his new passport, at Dahlia’s insistence). Scott Delgado. It feels right rolling off his tongue, fits into his skin without even trying.

“McCall!” Coach barks during practice.

“Coach, it’s Delgado, remember?” Stiles says, nudging Coach with his elbow.

“Right, sorry. Delgado! Lahey!” Coach barks. “Thanks, Bilinski.”

Some things never change.

 

_You remember_

_I know you remember_

_You’re still you, but you’re him, too, aren’t you?_

_I –_

_I didn’t –_

_I didn’t know this was going to happen_

_I should have known_

_I should have tried harder_

 

He forgets, sometimes. Or, rather, he remembers. He forgets that he isn’t supposed to remember.

He watches Isaac sit down next to Lydia and looks out the window to where Derek waits for her to taste the kanima venom…but no, they’re not in Chem class, they’re in AP Bio and Isaac’s holding out an eraser, not rock candy.

Ethan trips Isaac while running laps and they go down in a pile of limbs, Isaac rolling Ethan onto his back and Ethan careful to hold back his strength – because Isaac isn’t a werewolf, Isaac has never been a werewolf, Isaac doesn’t want to be a werewolf, and Ethan knows not to hurt him or anyone else. Aiden sits on the bleachers and laughs, no teeth bared and nothing but mirth in his eyes, and Danny smiles as he pushes his boyfriend off Isaac. Jackson knocks into Scott. “Watch the eyes, Delgado,” he mutters, and Scott blinks away the red that’s swum into his vision.

Lydia beams at him from the podium as thunderous applause follows her valedictorian speech and caps rain down around them, and for a split second they’re standing alone in that white room, balloons trailing from the doors she burst through. The principal shakes his hand and reaches forward with the other, and Scott’s heart jumps as Gerard tugs him close and sinks the knife into his gut. Then paper presses into his hand, and he breathes as the principal lets go of his diploma with a smile. “Congratulations.”

Allison leaps into his arms, graduation cap knocking into his nose, and squeals, “We made it!” He pastes a smile onto his face and blinks away the sight of blood trailing from her mouth. They made it. They got to make it this time.

They go cliff-diving during the summer and Derek leaps off the edge, twisting around to make a stupid face at them as he falls backwards into the water far below, and suddenly Scott’s world is sideways and Erica holds down his struggling limbs while Stiles clutches his face and shouts his name. He can’t stop screaming, not as long as Derek is dead at the bottom of the mall because he fell and Scott couldn’t catch him, and the wolfsbane chokes his thoughts and he can’t even remember the point of anything anymore.

Derek gathers him up like a child and holds him against his chest, still dripping wet and heaving from running all the way back to the cliff. “Listen to my heart, Scott,” he says. “Focus on my heartbeat. Breathe with me.” Scott squeezes his eyes shut and winds his arms tight around Derek’s neck.

He goes with Stiles to the car shop and the scent of gasoline fills his nostrils, leeches into his clothes and sinks under his skin. “Scott?” Stiles says, and Scott looks up to see Stiles carefully unclenching his fingers from a flare that he must have taken off the wall. “You with me, buddy?” he asks steadily, but Scott can hear the faint hitch in his voice and smell the bitter-warm concern pouring off him. It cuts through the gasoline and brings him back. They’re both completely dry. It’s the middle of the day. Everyone is okay.

Scott loosens his grip and lets Stiles put the flare back. “I’m with you,” he says, but his voice doesn’t even sound convincing to his own ears.

 

Stiles says, “Please let me help you.” He holds him tight, choking through his words and tears spilling onto Scott’s shoulder. “Scott, I can’t just watch you fall apart like this. Please.”

Scott clutches him back. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Stiles says. “You don’t have to be sorry. But you have to – I just want you to be okay, Scott. You’re my brother. Let me help you.”

“You’re my brother,” Stiles says as he steps into a pool of gasoline. His hospital gown is scratchy under Scott’s hands and the MRI waits, cruelly clinical. His fingers dance over the katana, and each touch burns through Scott’s body. His eyes meet Scott’s, dull and crushed by Allison’s death. He braces the katana against his own body, fingers flexing over the grip and fully prepared to die. Scott can’t. He can’t. “I can’t,” he tells Stiles. “I’m sorry, Stiles. I can’t.”

Stiles can never know. None of them can ever know. It’s worth a lifetime of ghosts if they never know. He’ll gladly lose his own mind if they get to keep theirs.

 

Allison and Aiden are arguing again, big surprise, and Malia tries to make things better while Stiles tries to make things worse, because Stiles always has Allison’s back in the worst way. (Scott suspects it will escalate to Stiles straight-up shivving someone for her one day, and Allison will be so proud while Scott will have to drive everyone to the hospital. Again.) Scott steps in to calm things down, because Ethan will listen to him and Aiden will listen to Ethan listening to him, but Aiden growls, “You’re not my alpha!” and punches him in the face.

He falls back against the wooden table, and the park darkens into the abandoned loft and Aiden looms over him, raining blows down onto his face with all the strength of a former alpha, shouting at him to roar. “Scott!” he yells. _“Scott!”_

Aiden yells, “Scott!” and hauls him upright, lets Allison push him away as she grips Scott’s unbloodied face and peers into his eyes. “Scott,” she says softly. “Scott, can you hear me?”

He blinks. The world is light and dark and light again, and Stiles grips his wrist and his hair is all wrong, and he breathes in stale air and fresh daisies. “I’m…sorry,” he says, pushing himself away from the table and feeling springy grass and cold concrete under his shoes. “I’m okay. Sorry. It’s nothing.”

Allison doesn’t look convinced – she never does, none of them do anymore – but Isaac stalks past Ethan and punches Aiden in the jaw. He falls to the ground, and Isaac doesn’t wait for him to get up before he punches him again, kneels over him and slams his head into the ground by the throat. Blood trickles out of the twin’s mouth as shouts and Coach’s whistle echo around them, and he smiles because he knows what he’s done to him. “Isaac!”

Isaac shoulders twitch and stiffen like a beta hearing his alpha, and then he turns around, completely human with a curious eyebrow quirked. “Did you just alpha roar me?” he asks.

“What?” Scott blinks. “No, I’m not…” He’s not an alpha and Isaac isn’t his beta, but no, that’s wrong, he _is_ an alpha but Isaac can’t be his beta because Isaac’s human, and that’s not Ethan, that’s Aiden, and they’ve never been alphas at all.

“You totally alpha roared him,” Aiden says, and he doesn’t have that crazy smile at all, there is no blood dribbling out of his mouth, he just looks faintly amused with his throat bared at Isaac. Ethan has an identical expression on his face behind him, and Malia’s lips twitch as she tries not to smile.

“Dude, you totally alpha roared him,” Stiles agrees. “You alpha soccer-mom’d him. I’m actually really proud of myself for not laughing.”

“Mom never breaks out the alpha roar,” Isaac says, standing up and helping Aiden to his feet. “Didn’t think it’d be so effective for humans, too.”

“Why’d you hit him?” Scott asks. “And how did that actually _work?_ ” Aiden’s not an alpha, was never an alpha, but Isaac’s still human. Cora had let Stiles punch her once, and he’d almost broken his hand on her face. Erica had laughed even as she drained away his pain and wrapped his hand in ice.

“Well, he hit you first,” Isaac says. Stiles nods like it’s a perfectly reasonable explanation. “And it worked because of this.” He slips a knuckleduster off his hand. “Infused with wolfsbane. Darren showed me how to make them.”

“Belladonna Hale’s little brother knows how to make wolfsbane-infused knuckledusters,” Stiles says, sinking down onto the park bench. “Why am I not surprised.”

“Makes sense,” Allison says. “Just because the rest of your family are werewolves doesn’t mean you have to be the weakest.”

Aiden rubs a slowly-fading bruise on his jaw. “Well, it’s effective.”

“You deserved it,” Malia says with a shrug. Aiden makes a face, but nods in agreement.

Stiles picks up the knuckleduster. “Why didn’t you tell me about these?” he asks. “Seeing as I am also a human in a werewolf pack.”

They blink at him. “Stiles,” Scott says, “I’m the only werewolf in your werewolf pack.”

“Kira’s a werefox!” Stiles says. “That totally counts!”

“Kira couldn’t even hurt a fly,” Isaac says. He pulls a container out of his pocket, and for a moment Scott sees the jar that they had used to trap the nogitsune. Then Isaac pops the lid, and it’s just a can of Ice Breakers. “And I’m not going to teach you how to handcuff my brother to a lamppost.”

Stiles puts a hand over his heart. Or, he puts a hand over the right side of his chest, which is definitely not where his heart is, but it’s the thought that counts. “Isaac, I would never,” he says solemnly. Then, “I was thinking more…your cousin?”

“Hey,” Malia says mildly.

“Not you!”

“He’s still my brother!”

Because Isaac is the worst cousin ever, he looks tempted. “Guys,” Scott says, putting as much authority into his voice as he can muster, “No one is abusing their werewolf or wolfsbane – or were _coyote_ -” he adds to Malia, who holds her hands up, “-abilities to take advantage of someone else.” The twins shiver and subconsciously bare their throats, and even Isaac ducks his head a little. He grins at Allison, who beams back at him. He’s getting better at this alpha thing.

Then Stiles whines, “You’re no fun, Scott.”

“He has a point,” Isaac says loyally, and then ruins everything by adding, “And, by the way, so does Aiden about the territory lines.”

Allison gasps and nearly spits out her Ice Breaker before her eyes narrow comically. Scott sighs as he watches her gear up for another round of arguments. “Traitor!” Stiles shouts. “You good-for-nothing traitor!”

 

A week later, Jackson ends up duct-taped to his Porsche with his wrists bound by wolfsbane-laced handcuffs. It takes Danny ten minutes to explain the situation when he calls Scott for help because he can’t stop laughing.

 

Tara Graeme gets a promotion at BHPD, and her replacement comes in the form of one Deputy Parrish. “Two years in the Army, certified HDT, deputy for San Mateo County the past year or so before he leaped at the job opening here,” Stiles says, tossing down the file.

“Um,” Scott says. “Why do you have a file on one of your dad’s employees?”

“Because he is new and I am paranoid,” Stiles says. “The last new person that showed up in this town turned out to be a kitsune-”

“A very friendly kitsune,” Scott points out.

“-and the last new people before _that_ turned out to be twin blue-eyed werewolves plus a werecoyote,” Stiles says, “So I’m just going to go ahead and assume that every new person who moves here is supernatural and possibly a threat.”

Allison tilts the file closer to her. “He looks awfully young.”

“Twenty-six years old,” Stiles says. “Same age as Derek. _Coincidence?_ ”

Scott and Allison glance at each other. “Yeah,” Allison says. “That sounds like a coincidence to me. There are plenty of people the same age as Derek.”

“Yeah, like the hunter Jackson killed sophomore year,” Stiles says.

“I’m pretty sure Deputy Parrish wasn’t on the 2006 swim team,” Scott says. “And besides, Derek’s twenty _-five_ ,” he adds, ignoring Stiles’ judgmental eyebrow. “Maybe he got sick of living in San Mateo-”

“Half Moon Bay,” Allison interrupts, frowning down at the file. “He lived in Half Moon Bay, commuted to San Mateo.” She looks up. “That’s a great place to live. It’s on the ocean, peaceful little town.”

“Well, Beacon Hills _claims_ to be a peaceful little town,” Stiles says with a huff. “I mean, maybe he wanted to swap out the ocean for the forest, but something about him just doesn’t add up.”

“I still say we give him the benefit of the doubt,” Scott says. “We’ll keep an eye on him, but no moreso than anyone else.”

“Everyone will be watching him more than usual, anyway,” Allison says. “Since he’s something new, and he looks pretty damn good in that uniform. What?” she says when they turn to look at her. “We were all thinking it, I’m just the one that said it.”

 

Deputy Parrish seems nice enough. He knew Camden Lahey in the Army, apparently, and spends time with Isaac sharing stories. (Stiles convinces Derek to stalk them, definitely for Isaac’s safety and not because Derek looks hilariously dramatic when he stalks someone.) Alicia Boyd tells Scott that he always stops to chat when he buys his morning coffee, and Erica says that he goes to the community pool almost as often as she does. He rescued Mikey Chance when he jumped into the deep end, apparently, and lectured him sternly but kindly about water safety. “I’ve started flirting with him just to keep Mrs. Chance away,” Erica says solemnly. “She’s, like, twenty years older than him, and he’s too nice to just run away.”

“Yeah, I’m sure _that’s_ why you’re flirting with him,” Scott says with a snort.

“Oh, Scott,” Erica says, tossing her hair. A boy walks into the ice cream parlor door while staring at her sundress. It’s doing great things for her cleavage. “It’s just a little harmless flirting between friends. Keeps the cougars and underage girls off his back.”

“ _You’re_ an underage girl.”

“Not in two weeks, I won’t be.” She licks her spoon thoughtfully. Scott hears a thud that’s probably another tween walking into the door. “I invited him to the beach party since I’m, like, his only friend here so far.”

“Are you trying to make Boyd and Cora jealous?”

“Cora doesn’t do jealousy,” she says dismissively. She shoves a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. “Boyd’s going to Stanford. What if he forgets about us?”

“Oh, Erica.” He tilts her head onto his shoulder. “He won’t. And you know how I know that?”

“How?” she asks, stabbing at her ice cream.

“Because he asked me the exact same thing about you and Cora last week.”

 

Deputy Parrish still seems nice enough, even when he turns out to be a selkie. “It’s sad,” Erica says, waving at Deputy Parrish as he drives past the park. “He’s trapped here without his pelt, you know?”

“It’s not that bad, being human,” Isaac says, plucking daisies out of the grass to weave into Erica’s hair.

“But not being able to change back into his other form?” Malia asks. She shudders. “I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t be a coyote. Lose my mind, probably.”

“Well, it’s been a decade,” Scott says. “He’s probably gotten used to it.”

“He lived right next to the ocean until he moved here,” Malia says. “That doesn’t sound like getting used to it to me.”

“We should go to San Francisco,” Erica says. “Talk to the sea lions there, ask them for help finding his pelt.”

“That’d be great if any of us could actually speak sea lion,” Stiles says. “Lydia’s amazing, but I don’t think even she could speak a non-human language.”

“Well, some of them are bound to be selkies,” Erica says. “If he used to play there, then others probably do, too.”

“Wait, what?” Isaac asks.

“He’s from San Francisco,” Erica says. “Someone stole his pelt when he was playing with the humans in Fisherman’s Wharf.” She looks around. “What, he didn’t tell you guys that?”

“I asked him, but he didn’t answer,” Stiles says disgruntledly.

“That’s because you ask the most rudely invasive questions in the world,” Malia says. “Isaac, you okay?”

“I…” He tugs at the hem of his shirt, white-faced. “What does a selkie pelt look like?”

“Uh,” Scott tries to remember what Derek had told him. “Like, kinda furry, like a seal – or sea lion,” he adds. “But it depends on who’s looking at it, like, a human might just see a blanket or-”

“Oh my god,” Isaac says. He stands up. “Oh my god.” He turns to the others. “We need to go to the house right now,” he says, and sprints for Stiles’ Jeep before they can react.

Erica looks disdainfully at Scott and Stiles. “I blame you for making him all weird.”

“We better catch up with him,” Malia says, getting to her feet.

“He can’t go anywhere, I have the keys,” Stiles says, swinging the keychain around his finger.

Malia tilts her head. “He’s hotwiring your car.” They hear the Jeep’s engine rumble to life a few seconds later.

“Son of a bitch.”

 

“Cam gave it to me,” Isaac says, opening the front door and heading immediately for the stairs. “He – hi, Mom – he said he got it when we went to San Francisco, almost ten years ago.”

Scott waves at Talia Hale as they follow Isaac into his old room and Malia ducks into the library. Isaac pulls a heavy box out of the closet, unlocks it, and pulls out a slightly smaller wooden box. “You’re really not taking any chances with that, are you,” Erica comments as Isaac uses one of her claws to prick his finger and unlock the box.

“It’s everything I have that’s Cam’s,” Isaac says. “Johanna made me something that would keep bugs and nature out, that’s all. A blood lock was easier, apparently.”

“Yeah, sure it was,” Stiles mutters. “Well, actually, it’d be more seamless than a traditional lock, so-”

“No one cares, Stiles,” Malia says, coming in with one of Derek’s giant binders in hand. “Okay, so, according to this, the pelt looks different to everyone. Something that reminds them of home, to discourage others from destroying it.” She shuts the binder. “What’d it look like to you, Isaac?”

Isaac moves aside Camden Lahey’s dog tags and neat stacks of letters before hesitating over his military uniform. “Well, in case it _is_ a pelt,” he says. “We should probably all take turns saying what we see?”

“Formal dress military uniform,” Stiles says immediately.

Isaac rolls his eyes. “Not _yet_ ,” he says. “Underneath this.” He lifts up the uniform, and they gasp and lean closer.

“It’s a knit shawl,” Erica says. “Like the one my grandma wore when she used to take care of me.”

“Okay, that’s kinda scary,” Malia says. “Because it looks like a fleece blanket to me, like the one I used to wrap Felicia in when she was a baby.”

Scott looks at Stiles. “Patchwork quilt,” he says softly. “Like the one my mom had.”

Isaac lifts it carefully. “It always looked like a scarf to me,” he says. “Blue as my eyes, Cam always said. I used to wear it a lot, before he-” He shakes his head. “What do you see, Scott?”

Scott frowns down at the material in Isaac’s lap. “I,” he says, and squints harder. “I just see a sea lion pelt.” It’s light brown, with highlights reminiscent of Parrish’s hair.

“Probably that True Alpha magic,” Stiles says, clapping his back. “So, we found a pelt, but are we sure it’s Parrish’s? Like, that’ll be really embarrassing if it turns out to be someone else’s.”

“It’s his,” Scott says. “It has his scent.” He looks at Malia and Erica. “Can’t you smell it?”

Malia shakes her head with a frown. “It just smells like home to me,” she says. Erica nods.

“Like I said,” Stiles says smugly. “True Alpha magic.”

 

Erica’s birthday beach party is the next day, so Isaac keeps the pelt carefully stowed in his backpack until Parrish shows up (he’d promised Erica he’d come, once he got off his shift that evening). The weres all band together to toss Erica into the surf, and the twins organize an increasingly competitive game of volleyball. Allison hops onto Derek’s shoulders to chickenfight Cora and Boyd; it ends with all four of them tumbling into the waves.

Scott lets Erica pull him into a game of Frisbee – Stiles cracks dog jokes until Kira flicks the Frisbee into his head – but he mostly hangs back and helps the Sheriff grill burgers and hot dogs. “You’re quiet, Scott,” he says. “Is this because of my soon-to-be-missing deputy?”

John Stilinski may be human, but he’s better at detecting lies than Derek. Scott nods anyway, unsurprised when Sheriff sets his tongs down with a sigh. “You didn’t even try. I tried to give you an out and everything.”

“I’ve never been able to lie to you,” Scott says.

“That never stopped Stiles,” John says. He wraps his arm around him. “Are you okay here? One of us can take you home, or-”

“No, it’s fine, I’m fine,” Scott says. He won’t get any memories at a beach – they never had time to get away and celebrate like this. He hates how weak he is, that everyone watches him carefully, now. He smiles at John. “Really, I’m fine.”

“I’m eighteen!” Erica shouts. Derek scoops her up in his arms, carrying her bridal-style towards the waves, and she isn’t lifeless and broken, and Derek doesn’t stare down at her, tearing apart inside. He’s laughing, and she flails in his arms and reaches back for Boyd, squealing for him to save her.

Erica got her driver’s license, and Stiles taught her how to drive a stick last year, and she turned seventeen and eighteen and she graduated high school, just like they all did. “Scott?” John asks.

“I’m fine,” Scott says. “I promise, I’m fine.”

Erica squawks as Derek flings her into the ocean, and Boyd wraps him in a headlock. Derek breaks free easily, but Cora springs out of the water and tugs his swim trunks down.

Scott drops his hot dog. Derek’s ass is _really_ pale. “Well,” John comments, “I’m not sure how fine you are _now_.”

 

The adults have headed home and the rest of them are seated around the bonfire, roasting s’mores while Isaac and Erica sing One Direction deliberately off-key to piss Jackson off, by the time Parrish shows up. “You made it!” Erica squeals, scrambling out of Cora’s lap and flinging her arms around him. “I can hug you ‘cause I’m legal now!”

“Happy birthday, Erica,” Parrish says, patting her back awkwardly. Derek sighs heavily into his hand.

“We have a present for you!”

“Uh, but it’s your birthday,” Parrish says.

“Yeah, and on my birthday I can do what I want,” Erica says, nodding at Isaac. “Okay, so technically it’s not a present since it belongs to you, but…”

“What are you talking a…” Parrish trails off when Isaac unwraps the pelt. “Where did you get that?”

“I, uh,” Isaac says. “Cam gave it to me years ago. I thought it was…I didn’t know – if he’d known what it was, he wouldn’t have-”

Parrish laughs, burying his face in the pelt. “This whole time,” he gasps between peals of laughter. “It’s been here this whole time.” He looks around the bonfire. “Thank you,” he says, clutching it tight. “I’ve never heard of…they don’t give them back, usually.”

“We’re not that usual,” Scott says, shrugging.

“You’re not,” Parrish agrees. Then he rips his clothes off – Derek slaps his hands over Cora and Isaac’s eyes – and slides into the pelt. It’s hard to see the transition through the bonfire light, but his legs seem to melt seamlessly into a tail, his arms shortening to flippers, and when Scott gets back up to his face, he’s staring at a huge sea lion. He nods at him once, then runs for the ocean.

“They’re not the most graceful on land, are they?” Stiles comments as they watch him splash into the shallows. “Ow! Stop hitting me, Malia! It’s true!” Scott watches Parrish slip beneath the waves, his hind flippers raising briefly before he disappears completely.

“Well,” Allison says finally. “I guess it’s over, then. Derek, can you help me pack up?”

Scott sits next to Isaac, who’s quietly looking through Parrish’s wallet with Erica leaning him on her shoulder. “You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Isaac says. “It’s just…he knew Cam. It was nice, being able to hear about everything I’d missed.” He slides out his driver’s license and chokes out a laugh when they see the photograph underneath. It’s a young Camden and an even younger Isaac, beaming goofily in front of a fake ocean backdrop. _Can’t wait for you to meet the rest of your family! –Cam_ , the back reads.

“You miss him,” Scott says.

Isaac rolls his eyes. “I met him like two weeks ago.”

“Well, so did I, and _I_ miss him,” Erica says, pouting.

Isaac leans into her. “Okay, maybe I miss him a little,” he says, putting the photo and driver’s license back.

Kira coughs behind them. “We’re ready to go whenever you are,” she says. “Take your time.”

Isaac stares out at the dark water, clutching the wallet in his hands. “Let’s go.”

 

The next morning, Scott leaves a note on the Hale’s kitchen table and tip-toes out the door before running smack into Derek. “What are you doing?” he asks, glancing at the bag in Scott’s hand.

“I just had a feeling,” Scott says. “It’s dumb, I know, but-” Derek turns and walks away. “Dude, you could have at least waited ‘till I finished talking.”

Derek opens the door to his car. “Well, are you coming or what?”

“You’re gonna go along with this?” Scott asks disbelievingly.

“You should trust your instincts,” Derek says. “And since you clearly don’t, I will for you.” He starts the car. “Let’s go.”

About a mile before they hit the beach, Scott sees a pale figure walking along the road shoulder. Derek slows to a stop and pops open the passenger door. “Please tell me that looks like a towel or something to everyone else,” Scott says, nodding at the pelt wrapped around Parrish’s waist.

“I sure hope so,” Parrish says with a sigh. They look hopefully at Derek. “It’s green and fluffy,” he says. “Matches your eyes.”

Parrish eyes the spare clothes and towel folded on the backseat. “Are those for me?”

Scott flits his gaze down Parrish’s wet and nearly naked body. “Well, they’re sure not for us.”

 

“How’d you know I’d come back?” Parrish asks when they’re settled in a booth at the seaside diner, fully dressed and wolfing down eggs and bacon.

“I had a feeling,” Scott says. “And I saw the photo in your wallet.”

Parrish pauses, mouth stuffed with bacon, then swallows heavily. “That obvious, huh?”

“You spent all of your human years in the foster care system and then you joined the Army,” Derek says. “It’s kinda obvious Camden was the closest thing you ever had to family here on land.”

“I started playing with the humans because I was lonely,” Parrish says. “My family – I don’t know what happened to them, they went hunting one day and never came back.” He stabs at his egg and watches the yolk run. “We’re not supposed to stay human for too long, we age faster like this, but…”

“It’d be worth it if you found your family,” Scott finishes.

“I would’ve given this to him,” Parrish says, tugging at the pelt draped around his neck. Nobody had batted an eye when they’d walked in, so Scott guesses it looks like a towel to everyone else. “If I’d had it, I would’ve let him keep it. I guess it’s pretty ironic, since he’s the one who took it in the first place.” He mops up the egg with a piece of toast. “How come we stopped here instead of going right back?”

“In case you changed your mind,” Scott says. “It’s kind of a big choice.”

“Choices are scary,” Parrish agrees, clutching his pelt nervously. “I’d gotten so used to not having one that now that I do…” He blinks down at his plate. “Why’d you give it back to me?”

“Because everyone deserves to have a choice,” Scott says.

“You didn’t,” Parrish says. Derek stares at the table, knuckles white around his spoon. “Isaac told me what happened to you.”

Scott nudges Derek with his knee and pushes his coffee closer to him. “All the more reason to make sure other people get to.”

 

“About time you got back,” Stiles rants, running outside when they park. “What was with the stupidly vague note, Scott, you’ve been spending too much time with Der-” His mouth snaps shut when Parrish climbs out of the backseat. “Oh, shit.”

“You really know how to make someone feel welcome, Stiles,” Derek says with a sigh. He drops a hand to Parrish’s back. “Come on in.”

“Was that Scott?” Isaac calls from the kitchen when they open the front door. Derek quietly pushes Parrish over the threshold. “Stiles? Dude, what the-” Isaac walks into the living room and stops dead when he sees them.

“I, uh,” Parrish says. Derek nudges him. “Well, I mean, you kept this safe for the past several years, so.” He thrusts the neatly folded pelt into Isaac’s hands. “I thought you could, uh, keep doing that.”

Isaac’s fingers curl over the edges of the pelt. “You want to stay?” he asks, voice small.

“I do,” Parrish says, nodding firmly. “I mean. If that’s okay with you.” Scott sighs quietly. Who knew selkies were so bad at adjusting to free will. Isaac, though, throws an arm around Parrish – the other still clutching the pelt tight to his chest – and cries into his shoulder.

“Oh, _shit_ ,” Stiles yells. He shoves a hand into Scott’s pocket and pulls out his Samsung Galaxy S4. “Dude!” Scott yelps, at the same time that Derek chides, “Language.”

Stiles ignores him. “Dad?” he says. “It’s me, and Scott, and Derek, and – anyway, Dad, we need you to stop faking Parrish’s death _right now_.”

Scott, Derek, and Parrish look at each other. “Oh, shit.”

Stiles glares at them. “See, this is why you need to leave less vague notes.”

 

Scott walks into their suite mid-April, takes one look at Isaac’s smug face and one sniff at the air, and says sternly, “Isaac.”

“What?” Isaac asks, the perfect picture of innocence.

Stiles looks back and forth between them. “Wait, what’s going on? Isaac, did you break something?” He doesn’t add _without me_ , partly because it’s already implied and partly because they both try to pretend that they’re not complete delinquents around Scott.

“It’s not a big deal,” Isaac says. “He’s still rebounding from You-Know-Who, that’s all.”

“What’s not a big deal?” Stiles demands. “Who’s rebounding from Voldemort?”

Danny walks out of his and Isaac’s bedroom wearing Isaac’s boxers, startling when he sees them. “Heyyyyy, Scott,” he says. “I guess the cat’s out of the bag, huh?”

 _“What_ bag?” Stiles asks.

 **From:** Jackson Whittemore, 10:04 am

it’s lahey, isn’t it

 **From:** Jackson Whittemore, 10:04 am

he’s rebounding from ethan with fucking LAHEY

 **From:** Jackson Whittemore, 10:05 am

i’m gonna punch him in his damn face the next time i see him

Danny eyes Scott’s Samsung Galaxy S5 guiltily. “That’s Jackson, isn’t it?”

“Yup,” Stiles says, leaning over to read the screen. “How do you two always know when something’s up with the other, even from, like, two hundred miles apart?”

“He’s my best friend,” Danny says with a shrug. “Scott, can you tell him I’m perfectly capable of making my own life choices and dealing with the consequences?”

“He’s not an owl!” Isaac quips. “But seriously, why don’t you just tell him yourself?”

“Because he might actually believe it coming from Scott,” Danny says with a sigh.

“Believe _what?_ ” Stiles demands.

Isaac points at Danny. “I’m totally hitting that,” he says.

“Ew,” Stiles says automatically. “Sorry, Danny, not you, him.”

“Well, technically, he’s hitting this,” Isaac says thoughtfully, pointing back at himself. “Semantics.”

“Overshare.”

 

_What color were my eyes?_

_Who did I kill?_

 

_Did I die, too?_

 

He stops seeing ghosts in front of his eyes. He doesn’t turn to Stiles and see his face cold and calculating, or drawn and tight from guilt. He doesn’t listen to Allison laugh and hear her choke and gasp on last words. He doesn’t watch Erica sleep on Isaac’s shoulder and see her bruised and broken body.

Instead, he begins to dream. Every night when he closes his eyes, he relives it: the nogitsune or the alpha pack or Gerard or even Victoria. (She smiles at him genuinely, now, and pats Derek’s arm like a distant nephew. Derek still looks surprised and pleased every time, admitting to Scott that it’s taken her years to accept him as Allison’s friend.) He wakes pale and shaking, a cold sweat chilling his skin and his heart hammering like a jackrabbit. He stares blindly in the dark, looking for pictures of his friends smiling happy and whole. Malia and Erica tossing Cora into the waves at the beach; Kira and Allison kissing under a cherry tree; Lydia leaping onto Stiles’ back, caught mid-tumble to the ground.

He tries to sleep less and less. There’s no point in it, anyway; he wakes from the dreams more exhausted than when he’d fallen asleep. He studies with Kira, and Lydia quizzes him during their weekly video chats, because they look at him with the least worry, or at least hide it the best. He passes his classes. He’s fine. His friends and family are happy and safe. He’s fine.

Deaton sends him home early from work one day after he stares at a bottle of ketamine for too long (“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he’d told Isaac, and then let him get hurt over and over and over again until he couldn’t bear to stay…but Isaac’s still here, he lives with them in their apartment), and he hesitates at the front door when he hears Stiles’ urgent whispers.

“It’s every night,” Stiles says. “I hear him screaming, and crying, and pleading, and the next morning he acts like everything’s fine and nothing happened.” Scott quietly clenches his keys in his fist and backs away from the door. “We’ve all tried to wake him, you know, but it’s like he can’t hear us at all. It’s like…” He hears Stiles sigh, and pictures him dragging his hand through his hair. It’s nearly as long as it had been junior year, when they were hounded by the alpha pack and Jennifer Blake was still gaining power – but no. There was never an alpha pack, and her name is Julia Bacari.

“It’s like he’s somewhere else entirely,” he says brokenly. “Derek, I can’t help him. He won’t let me in. I don’t know what to do.” Scott slides down against the wall and strains to hear Derek’s response, but it’s too low and fuzzy and just makes his head throb. “Of course I trust him, Derek. But I can’t just stand by and let him fall apart. I can’t – Derek, I can’t.” Footsteps walk closer to the front door, and Scott’s eyes fly open. He grabs his backpack and runs silently down the stairs and out of the building and doesn’t come back to himself until he’s in an abandoned loft on the edge of town.

 

Isaac and Danny sexile them on Friday night – Isaac actually announces at breakfast, “Take your stuff for the weekend when you leave, because we’re sexiling you until Monday” – so they end up invading Derek’s house to watch the Iron Man films. Or, Scott tries to watch the Iron Man films while Stiles and Derek bicker about Robert Downey, Jr.’s film history or something. Stiles gets a text after Tony wakes up from a nightmare about New York, and he jumps up so quickly he trips over the coffee table and lands right back on the floor. “Dude! Lydia came up for the long weekend!” he says, thumbs flying over his phone. “I’m gonna-” He stops mid-text and looks up at Scott and Derek, guilt flooding his face. “I mean, sorry, I can just-”

“Dude,” Scott says. “Stiles. Your girlfriend goes to school three hours away from here. It’s totally okay to ditch us when she’s actually in town.”

Stiles beams. “You’re the best, Scott,” he says, dropping a kiss onto his cheek. “Derek, you’re just okay.” Derek rolls his eyes as Stiles gathers his stuff and practically runs out the door. “See you on Monday!”

Scott pulls out his phone and sets a reminder. “What are you doing?” Derek asks.

“Reminding myself to order a ‘Congratulations On The Sex’ cake from Kenny tomorrow,” Scott says. Then again, he’d sent them a cake last time, too. “Wait, do you think I should do cupcakes this time?”

Derek rolls his eyes. “You deserve each other,” he says. Then, sounding like he’s regretting every word, “Have you done a fruit tart yet?”

A fruit tart. That’s _perfect_. Lydia loves kiwis. “That’s perfect!” Scott says. He almost leans in to kiss him on the temple, like he would with Stiles or Isaac, but catches himself at the last minute and awkwardly punches his shoulder instead. “Derek, you’re the best.” Derek harrumphs like the grumpy old man he is. Scott tries not to find it endearing. (It doesn’t work.)

He doesn’t realize he’s fallen asleep until he stirs in Derek’s arms. “Time’s it?”

“Late,” Derek says.

Scott blinks his eyes open and realizes he’s not only in Derek’s arms, but being carried bridal-style down the hall. He tries to muster up the consciousness to feel embarrassed, but just ends up feeling warm and cuddly instead. “Sorry, I can-” He yawns, nearly tips backwards out of Derek’s arms, and tries again. “I can go.”

“You can’t even get both eyes open,” Derek says, sounding amused. Oh. That would explain why he can’t see much beyond Derek’s chest. His sculpted, well-defined chest. Oh god, he hopes he isn’t babbling out loud. Nah, he’s not Stiles. Stiles babbles when his mind shuts down; Scott just ends up saying a lot of “Uhhhs” and glancing desperately at Stiles for help. He doesn’t realize Derek’s said something else until he feels himself being laid down in a fluffy, comfy bed. “Huh?” he asks.

“I said, I have a guest bedroom no one’s using, so you might as well,” Derek says. He pulls the covers down and lets Scott more or less wiggle underneath them before tucking them over his shoulders. Scott manages to crack his other eye open when Derek turns to leave, and his traitorous mouth blurts, “What, no goodnight kiss?”

Derek’s back stiffens. Shit. Of all the times for his brain-to-mouth filter to spontaneously shut down, it had to be for that. He squeezes his eyes shut and pretends to be asleep. Maybe they’ll both ignore his heart beating way too quickly. Instead, he feels a hand brush his hair back as Derek softly brushes his lips over his forehead. “Good night, Scott.”

“Night, Derek,” Scott mumbles, grateful that the darkness hides the blush spreading across his entire head. He feels hot and glowy and fuzzy and scared, like he’s seventeen on New Year’s all over again. He pushes his face deeper into the pillow and lets himself drift off.

 

“Scott.”

He lands hard in the snow, wet chill soaking his legs as the Oni’s swords cut into him. He has to get up, he can’t let them – has to protect Stiles –

“Scott!”

– can’t die, Stiles can’t die, he can’t lose him, too, Allison’s gone, she’s gone, can’t lose –

_“Scott!”_

His eyes snap open, and the Oni’s cold mask melts into Derek’s face, brows drawn down and teeth bared. “No,” he gasps, shoving blindly out of its grip. “No – Derek – no-”

“Scott!” Derek roars, eyes wide and glowing. Scott feels his face shift and red bleed into his eyes as a roar bursts from his own throat, flinging Derek away from him with clawed hands. Derek goes flying into the door, wincing in pain, and – door. Door? He’s in a room. Dark room. Bed. He’s kneeling on a bed. This isn’t the school. There isn’t any snow. Derek slowly raises his chin without looking away from Scott, and his eyes burn yellow –

“Oh, god.” He scrambles off the bed. “Derek, I’m so sorry, god, Derek-”

Derek holds up hand; Scott isn’t sure if it’s to stop him from coming closer or to stop him from talking. He snaps his mouth shut and sits on his hands. Three long gashes run down his arm and don’t heal; Derek doesn’t seem to notice the blood dripping down his elbow. “Do you know where you are?”

Scott nods promptly. “I’m in your guest bedroom, in Beacon Hills, and it’s May 23, 2014. Or May 24, if it’s after midnight.” He bites his lip. “I’m sorry, I scratched you and you’re still bleeding.”

“Oh.” Derek looks down at his arm and shrugs. “It’s ‘cause you’re an alpha. It’ll heal.”

“You’re _bleeding_.”

Derek sighs and rises to his feet. “Well, come on, then,” he says, jerking his head towards the bathroom. He keeps up a running commentary while Scott washes his arm and wraps it in gauze and bandages. “This is nothing. You know Laura threw me off the roof once when we were teenagers? I broke both my legs, thought it was the funniest thing in the world. And then one day Cora thought it’d be funny to throw Erica off the roof. She landed right on her wrist, snapped it in two. Or,” he wiggles his own wrist and makes it harder for Scott to wrap up his bloody wounds, “however many bones there are in your wrist. Johanna probably knows. Anyway, Erica popped right back up laughing, and that was the day I learned werewolves could get heart attacks.”

“You didn’t really get a heart attack,” Scott says.

“No,” Derek admits, “But it felt like it.” He looks in the mirror and frowns at his shirt. “Crap, there’s blood on this.”

“Sor-” Scott begins, but stops when Derek pulls his head free and glares at him. “-ry?”

“If you apologize one more time, I will pinch you,” Derek says, dumping the shirt into the sink and filling it with water. He turns the faucets off and starts pushing Scott back towards the guest bedroom.

“Pinch me?” Scott repeats. “Really?”

“Shut up, it’s late,” Derek grumbles. “Early. Whatever.” He shoves Scott under the covers, and then – and then he climbs right under the covers with him and burrows down into the bed with an arm flung across Scott’s ribs. “Um,” Scott says.

“Sleep, Scott,” Derek mumbles. At least, that’s what Scott thinks he says. It’s kind of hard to understand around the pillow.

 

When Scott opens his eyes, he’s plastered against Derek’s back with his arm tucked firmly under Derek’s armpit. Sunlight streams through a crack in the curtains, and he feels more rested than he has in months.

Then Derek groans and rolls right off the bed. “Shiiiiiiit,” Scott hears him moan. “ _Ow_.”

He props his chin over the edge and peers down at Derek’s pathetically twisted body. “Wow,” he says. “You’re _really_ not a morning person.”

“’s too early.”

Scott glances at the clock. “It’s 11:30.”

“Too early. Wait.” He pushes himself upright on one arm. “We need to talk about last night.”

“Derek,” Scott says gently, “Your eyes aren’t even open.”

“Don’t change the subject, Scott,” Derek says, brows drawn together and mouth set in his I-am-disappointed-in-you frown that gets more and more effective every year. His eyes are still closed, though.

“Okay,” Scott says. “You work on actually waking up, and I’ll go make some coffee.”

“I _am_ awake,” Derek protests as Scott heads for the kitchen.

When he comes back ten minutes later with two mugs of coffee, Derek’s passed out on the floor.

 

“How long has this been going on, Scott?” Derek asks, forty-five minutes and two-and-a-half cups of coffee later. His green-blue eyes bear into Scott’s calmly and without a trace of judgment; Scott tries not to squirm under how heavy his gaze feels.

“I don’t know,” he says. And he doesn’t, is the thing. The dreams crept in so slowly, and the hallucinations faded away so slowly, and he doesn’t know how or when he ended up on the other side of the balance, but all he knows is he’s here now.

Derek doesn’t frown in concern like Allison or press twitching lips together like Stiles, just nods thoughtfully. It’s probably because he can actually hear Scott’s heart and knows he isn’t lying; otherwise, it really does sound like a cop-out. “And do you wake up in the middle of the night like that a lot?”

“No,” Scott says, frowning. “No, I – I’d never thought of it before, but I never wake up till morning.”

“And the dreams – memories?” Derek tries. Scott looks down at the table and doesn’t answer. Derek shouldn’t have to know. “Do they last the whole time?”

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s like I close my eyes and I’m right back in the middle of it all over again.”

“Like you’re reliving it,” Derek says. Scott nods. “So you don’t actually get much rest.”

“No rest for the wicked,” he quips, and his attempt at a smile fades when he sees the concern radiating out of Derek’s face. “It was a joke, come on, I know I’m not wicked or whatever.”

“That’s not what…” Derek begins, then shakes his head. “I woke you up,” he tries instead. “You know, Stiles and Isaac have tried, but they never could.” Scott nods guiltily; Derek reaches out and actually flicks him in the middle of his forehead. “Stop that, it’s not your fault.”

“That hurt!”

Derek ignores him. “Maybe it’s because we’re both werewolves,” he muses. “That’s the only difference. I mean, you’re much closer to Stiles and Isaac than me, so-”

“That’s not true!” Scott blurts. “We’re…I mean,” he backtracks. “You’re…different.”

Derek stares at him. “Nice save,” he says finally. “But for whatever reason, I could wake you up and they couldn’t. So…” He trails off meaningfully.

“…So, what?” Scott asks. He doesn’t really see where this is going.

“So maybe you should stay here instead of over there,” Derek says. He adds quickly, “Just for a little bit, to test the theory, and it’s not that far from campus.”

Scott fiddles with his mug. “I don’t want to inconvenience you,” he says. “Like, get in your way or bother you or anything. And I’ll get better at it, y’know, I stopped seeing things as much after a while so it’s just a matter of time, probably.”

“It probably is,” Derek says, nodding and not even trying to hide how much his heart doesn’t believe him. “But in the meantime, you don’t have to suffer on your own.”

“I don’t – I’m not _suffering_ ,” Scott says. That makes him sound like some pious martyr. He got through this once – they all did, not all of them survived but none of them gave up – so he can get through it again.

Derek watches him calmly. “Okay,” he says. He starts to add something, sighs, and just settles on, “Okay.”

 

It gets harder and harder to breathe as the wolfsbane smothers the air. He fills his lungs desperately, but his throat constricts and he can’t get enough oxygen. He barely feels it when Victoria plants a heel in his side and rolls him over. He can’t move, he’s not going to make it…

The door crashes open and Derek stumbles in, gasping through the wolfsbane. But he straightens suddenly, easily, completely unhindered, and walks steadily to kneel in front of Scott. “Scott, listen to me,” he says. Victoria’s gone, the table’s gone, he doesn’t…but the wolfsbane, the wolfsbane still chokes him. “I know you can hear me, Scott. Listen to my voice and follow me back.”

He tries to speak, tries to move, but his limbs are leaden and his throat is dry and swollen. He can’t breathe. Derek cradles his face in his hands, and his vision blurs. “I’m right here, Scott. I’m not going anywhere.”

He’s in a room. It’s dark. He’s not on a cold concrete floor, he’s in a soft bed. Derek kneels next to him, gently stroking his cheek with his thumb. “Scott?”

He can breathe. He can move. He reaches up and wraps his hand around Derek’s. “You pulled me out of there,” he says softly. “You always do.”

Derek’s brow creases. “Scott?” he asks, slightly tinged with fear.

Scott closes his eyes and shakes his head. He’s so tired. “S’okay,” he says. “I know where I am.” He turns his head into Derek’s hand, pressing it between his cheek and the pillow, and feels Derek sigh and settle down next to him. He can have his hand back in the morning.

 

Stiles loves the fruit tart. Lydia pretends not to like it, but Stiles sends him a picture of her licking custard off a kiwi. Five minutes later, Lydia sends him a picture of herself holding up a sign that says _THX 4 THE KIWIS_ while sitting on Stiles’ head.

 

_For the longest time, I wanted you to come back. You, from when I first met you that night in January. Eighteen seemed so old and far away and so grown-up, and it wasn’t until I was long past that age that I realized how wrong I was._

_You weren’t grown-up. You were just a kid, and you never should have had to go through what you did, and you never should have had to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. You carried your power so well and I admired you so much, but you shouldn’t have had to. You were just a kid, and I must have let you down, for you to be the way you were._

_And by the time I figured all this out, I’d let you down all over again. I let you get bit by my crazy uncle, and I let you get almost killed by the kanima, and I let you go through hell on that night in January and I didn’t even warn you._

_I keep letting you down. I’m sorry._

 

Cora and Erica study abroad in Venezuela for a semester. Isaac doesn’t even bother trying to come up with an excuse to go with them; he just packs up his camera and leaves behind his share of the rent for the next six months. Danny tries valiantly not to mope before giving up mid-October. “Feel free to say ‘I told you so,’” he says morosely.

“I told you so,” Stiles says immediately. Scott whacks him on the head. “What? He said we could!”

“Not helping,” Scott says. He nudges more cheesecake towards Danny. Cheesecake _always_ makes Danny feel better. Scott strongly suspects that Danny and Derek didn’t truly become friends until the day they realized their mutual love for the dessert.

“No, it’s fair,” Danny says, sighing and picking at his whipped cream. He’s Danny, so somehow the dramatic sighing inspires sympathy in Scott instead of just making him look like a douchebag. “I knew this was a no-attachment thing going into it. He told me. You told me. You, not so much,” he adds, pointing a fork at Stiles.

Stiles holds up his hands. “Well, sorry if I don’t like to stick my nose into my friends’ love lives.” He blinks. “Or lack thereof, in Isaac’s case. He’s probably breaking so many hearts in Venezuela, with his dreamy eyes and cheekbones that could cut diamonds.”

“Not helping,” Scott says again. “I should just switch you out for Lydia.”

“Harsh, bro,” Stiles says, not even trying for any sort of inflection as he taps away at his HTC phone. “You know what we need? We need another roommate.”

“Isaac already paid for his rent,” Danny says, confused. “And his stuff’s still here. Besides, Scott’s usually at Derek’s anyway so this actually a pretty sweet arrangement right now.”

“No, not a real roommate, like a temporary distraction,” Stiles says. “Y’know, one who knows how to navigate Isaac’s crap so we don’t have to do anything to his room, and-”

Scott hears footsteps pounding up the stairwell. “Stiles,” he groans, “Please tell me you didn’t-”

“What’s wrong?” Derek demands as he bursts through the door, shirtless and sweaty with one earbud still hanging in his ear. “What’s the emergency?”

“What, man, no emergency,” Stiles says, pasting on his most innocent face. It also happens to be his most incriminating face because of how often he misuses it.

“You literally texted me the word ‘emergency’ in all caps with a bunch of exclamation points,” Derek says flatly, holding up his Samsung Galaxy S5.

“Ah, but I didn’t use our emergency code word,” Stiles says, tapping his nose. “So it wasn’t an _emergency_ emergency.”

“Stiles.” Derek pinches the bridge of his nose. “No one ever uses the emergency code word.”

“Because we haven’t had an _emergency_ emergency yet,” Stiles says. “You’re going to be so grateful we have that code word when a clan of vampires roll into town, or a wendigo, or that freaky-deeky spirit thing under the Megatron tree or whatever wakes up a few centuries early.” He turns to Scott, eyes glittering and cold. “You can’t trust a fox,” he says, and plunges the katana deeper.

The sound of shattering glass pierces the air, and Scott sucks in a breath. “Sorry,” Derek says, crouching down to pick up the shards of a broken glass. “I tripped.”

“Dude,” Stiles says. “You scared me for a second there, Derek. Is there really a wendigo?” Danny rolls his eyes and helps Derek pick up the glass. “Does it look like the one in Hannibal?”

Derek finishes picking up the shards and rolls his eyes. “No.”

“No as in there isn’t a wendigo, or no as in it doesn’t look like the one in Hannibal?” Stiles asks as Derek drops the shards into the garbage.

“No.”

“Yeah, that’s really comforting, thanks,” Stiles calls while Derek disappears into Isaac’s room. “Scott, you okay?” he asks softly, leaning in and squeezing his hand.

Scott smiles weakly and squeezes back. “I’m good,” he says. “Promise.”

Derek wanders out of Isaac’s room and into Scott’s. “Isaac’s shirts are too small,” he calls. “I’m stealing one of yours.”

“Dude!” Scott whines. “You’re just going to make it all sweaty and gross!”

“Yeah, I don’t actually see a problem with that,” Danny says. He pulls the cheesecake towards him and starts digging in. “I’d offer my clothes, but I still think he looks better without.”

“Maybe it’ll inspire you to do laundry for a change,” Derek says as he walks back into the living room.

“Wow, I think you managed to find the smallest shirt Scott owns,” Danny comments.

“I do laundry!” Scott says. He turns to Stiles. “We totally do laundry.”

“It’s practically a crop top,” Danny continues. “You know, Scott _is_ shorter than you, but the height difference isn’t that drastic.”

Stiles makes a face. “Actually, Isaac did laundry the most and we gave him money to do ours, too.”

Danny tilts his head. “I wonder if your nipples will still chafe if you go running in that.”

 _“Danny!”_ Scott and Stiles say, and then notice Derek’s shirt. Scott’s pretty sure he hasn’t worn that shirt since freshman year of high school. Pre-werewolf transformation, for sure. “Wow, that is seriously tight on you,” Stiles says. “Is that even comfortable?”

 **From:** Draco Malfoy, 9:32 am

tell danny to stop hitting on my cousin

“Danny, Jackson says stop hitting on his cousin,” Scott says dutifully.

“How does he always _know?_ ” Stiles says, leaning over the table to look at Scott’s phone.

“That’s just Jackson for you,” Danny says fondly. “Werewolves can’t be psychic, right, Derek?”

Derek shrugs. Scott’s pretty sure werewolves can’t be psychic. Talia would have told him, probably. Belladonna definitely would have.

“So did you ever get your phone contacts figured out?” Stiles asks.

“Most of them,” Scott says. “I’m kind of afraid to ask the Death Eaters who they are.”

“Mm, yeah, that’s delving a little far into Isaac’s psyche,” Stiles agrees.

 

Scott opens the door and sees Derek, grim-faced, with a hand on Alicia Boyd and Felicia Tate’s shoulders. He backs up and lets them into the apartment. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Boyd said to go to you two if anything was wrong,” Alicia says, accepting a blueberry muffin from Scott. Derek sniffs his warily before he seems to realize that it’s from Kira, and not from any of the boys’ attempts at baking. “It’s Mr. Wilson.”

“The math teacher,” Scott says, a pit settling in his stomach. “Trig and Pre-Cal, right?”

Alicia nods. “He’s usually very neat and organized, but his desk’s gotten really cluttered, and his clothes are wrinkled and loose, and he watches the lacrosse team during practice.”

Derek pages through his laptop. “It’s preliminary, but…emaciation…” He turns to the girls. “Have you noticed anything about his face? His teeth, or…”

“Well, he’s always been pretty gaunt, but,” Felicia taps her chin. “He mentioned some dental problems at the beginning of the semester, and his gums are receding a little. Sometimes they bleed.”

“Oh, and Coach Finstock’s been complaining about smells,” Alicia adds, “But no one else notices, because, you know.”

Scott glances at Derek, who shrugs at him baffledly. “I…don’t know?”

“He’s fae,” Alicia says. “Really small, maybe just a drop of blood in his lineage, but it’s so obvious. Boyd didn’t even have to tell me about that one.”

“Coach is fae?” Scott asks.

Alicia nods, the _duh_ heavily implied. “Alicia had to explain it to me, too,” Felicia says in a loud whisper, nodding comfortingly at Scott.

Scott grins at Alicia. “You are so smart, just like your brother.”

Alicia beams. “He keeps throwing out the food in his office and he’s started eating just salads, he’s totally miserable,” he says. “Keeps saying the assistant coach’s meat’s gone bad. Rotten, you know?”

Scott’s eyes widen. Well, shit. “Well, sh…oot,” Derek says.

Felicia rolls her eyes. “We’re sixteen, Derek, you can swear around us.”

“Yeah, well.” He shuts his laptop. “It sounds like we have a wendigo.”

Scott remembers the memorial for Jake, and Kevin, and Sam, who had all been found dead and mutilated their junior year, and the gashes down Danny’s chest when he’d nearly bled out. Except Scott saw all of them at graduation, and now there’s an entirely new group of high schoolers in danger. “Thank you so much for telling us. This warning is going to save a lot of lives.” He looks up at Derek. “Can you take them to your mom’s?”

“Wait, we’re not going back to school?” Alicia asks.

“Belladonna’s on her way,” Derek says. “She’ll stay at the house as backup if we need her.” He curses. “Johanna’s at UCSF, Lydia’s at Stanford…we need someone to put up a barrier around the school.”

“I’ll call Stiles,” Scott says. “Deaton’s taught him how to tap into his belief, he’s competent enough to make a barrier.”

“Wendigos eat humans.”

“Wendigos eat anyone,” Scott says. They go after humans first, sure, but Derek had gotten a nasty chunk torn out of him last time – before. “I’m not going to let my best friend get eaten, okay? He’ll stay on the other side of the barrier.”

“Wendigos eat people?” Felicia asks, looking fascinated instead of horrified. “Whoa, this is just like Hannibal.”

They blink at her, and then Derek slaps his face with a groan. “I’m never going to hear the end of it from Stiles, am I.”

“Probably not.”

 

Unsurprisingly, Stiles waits all of five minutes before hopping over the barrier, following them into the school, and getting attacked by the wendigo. Aiden manages to throw him out of harm’s way, but he also manages to throw him into a sink and knock him out.

“Way to go, dumbass,” Malia says, staring down at Stiles’ unconscious body after the wendigo runs away. “Now who’s going to break the barrier if we need to get out?” She crosses her arms. “I knew I should’ve stayed in Davis for Thanksgiving.”

“Allison’s on the roof with Kira, they can get to us in time if we need it,” Scott says. “Probably.”

“We’ll _probably_ be able to escape the freaky cannibal, that’s comforting,” Ethan says, bending down and slinging Stiles over his shoulder. “We _probably_ won’t get our faces eaten off – holy fucking shit!” He screams, jumping back several feet.

“Calm down, it’s just me,” Danny says, clicking off his flashlight and waving at them.

And – no. This is exactly how Danny got hurt the last time, wandering in after them and getting snuck up on and Scott watches the claws tear down Danny’s front and just barely miss his jugular. He steps forward and seizes him by the shoulders. “What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be here!” He turns to Derek. “He’s not supposed to be here.”

“Wow.” Danny holds his hands up. “I’m sorry, did you not just say you needed someone to break the barrier?”

“Not in here with us,” Scott says. “Ethan, take him back outside.”

Danny and Ethan glance at each other. “Awkward,” Danny says. “Can I take the non-ex boyfriend twin instead?”

“Take both of them, then,” Scott says. “We’ll keep tracking the wendigo. Meet up with us when they’re both safe.”

“You okay?” Derek asks quietly after the twins leave. Malia starts tracking the wendigo’s scent and pretends that she can’t hear them. Scott appreciates the effort. “You looked pretty shaken up when you saw Danny.”

“It’s just…” Scott sighs and shakes himself. “It’s nothing.”

“They’ll make sure he’s safe,” Derek says in what he probably thinks is a reassuring tone. He’s never been very good at that, though, so he just sounds confidently fatalistic. “Him and Stiles both. The-” They snap upright as Aiden’s howl echoes through the halls.

When they find them, Danny has Stiles flung over his shoulder while Aiden backs them towards the main doors, watching the wendigo dig into Ethan’s stomach. Derek lunges at them and gets thrown into the lockers since he never really did get good at fighting, but Malia sinks her claws into the wendigo’s chest, pulling it off Ethan. “Go!” Aiden yells at Scott, charging into the fray. Scott picks up Danny and runs outside to toss him over the barrier.

Danny lands hard on his ass, safely on the other side with Stiles in his arms as Kira runs to meet them, and blinks dumbly up at Scott. “It was-”

“The Sheriff will be here any minute, so just stay here,” Scott orders, and runs back into the school. Aiden and Malia hold the wendigo down long enough for Scott to roar it back into its human form and knock him out against the floor.

Ethan glances up from his sprawl on the floor, hands pressed to his abdomen to keep his insides from spilling out while he heals. “That was disgusting,” he says. “I think I might pass out.”

“Please don’t, your intestines will go everywhere,” Derek says. He and Aiden carry him outside while Malia helps Scott take Mr. Wilson out to Sheriff Stilinski. Things really do run so much smoother when they have adults in positions of authority on their side.

“It was eating him,” Danny says faintly when they reach him. “Allison, it was eating him.” He turns to Ethan as Aiden lays him onto the lawn. Ms. Morrell’s going to have fun cleaning the blood out of there, later. “It was _eating_ you.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Ethan says dryly.

“It was my fault,” Danny says. “It was after me, I should’ve-”

Ethan holds a hand up to stop him, then quickly puts it back when his guts start to slide out. “Please stop talking.” Scott carefully rests a hand on his shoulder to take some of the pain away. “Thanks, Scott.”

Stiles cracks his eyes open. “What’d I miss? What’s Danny doing here?” He sits up and looks right at Ethan’s partially-healed stomach. “Oh my god. That is so gross. Oh god, why.”

Ethan throws his hands up, and Malia and Aiden both rush to cover the gaping hole. “Well, it’s not like I’m doing this on purpose!”

Danny vomits into Stiles’ lap. They all become vegetarians for the next month.

 

Scott opens the door to Derek’s house and sees Parrish staring at him from the couch, expression frozen somewhere between flying into an escape route and realizing that he can’t actually outrun an alpha werewolf. It’d be completely hilarious if he weren’t also straddling Derek’s lap with his hands buried in Derek’s hair. Scott can see the top of Derek’s triskele peeking over the couch while Derek seems to try his hardest to disappear into Parrish’s shirt. “I’m so sorry!” he says, backing up into the door. “Sorry, I should’ve knocked, sorry, I’ll just-” His hand finally finds the doorknob, and he flings himself out the door, locking it firmly behind him.

Okay. That could have gone better. He briefly thinks of telling Isaac just to see the look on his face, but he’s at The Jungle with Danny. Actually, there isn’t really anyone he can tell, since everyone he knows decided that today would be a great date night. He doesn’t really want to be alone with his own head right now, though, because he’s happy Derek found someone and really, Derek deserves to be happy, Derek…

He shakes his head and runs aimlessly until he finds himself at the edge of a cliff in the Preserve, where he and Allison used to sneak out back when her parents didn’t want her dating a werewolf. He slides down onto a boulder and stares up at the waning moon.

“Fancy meeting you here, alpha.” Malia trots out of the woods and sits down next to him. “Needed to get away, too?”

Scott shrugs. “I thought you’d be spending time with the twins before you head back to Davis.”

“They’re being annoying,” she says. “Well, Aiden’s being annoying. He won’t stop treating Ethan like glass after the wendigo, and you know how Ethan hates being babied. I figured I’d get out of the way before things blow up.”

“Well, Ethan _did_ get pretty hurt, so-” Scott begins, but Malia smushes a finger against his mouth.

“Nuh-uh,” she says. “Rule number one of dealing with the twins, don’t side with one over the other. Just call them both stupid and let them tussle it out.” She leans back on her elbows. “So what brings you out here?”

“I kind of accidentally walked in on Derek and Parrish.”

She whistles. “That’s pretty hot.”

“He is your _cousin_.”

“My cousins are hot!” Malia says, holding her hands out. “Besides, it’s not like I even knew they were my cousins until a couple years ago.” She scoots closer. “How are you feeling?”

“What do you mean?” he asks. “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be fine?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she says. “No reason, just that tiny, inconsequential, epic crush you’ve had on Derek for the past couple of years.”

“I have _not_.” She stares at him, nonplussed. “That’s a – it’s nothing. It’s one of those things that goes nowhere, you know, like, you just get used to it because you know it’s never going to happen. Like, like Stiles’ crush on Lydia in high school.”

“Hm, yeah, just like that,” Malia says. “You do realize they’ve been together for the past two years. That was a terrible example.”

“That’s why I said ‘in high school,’” Scott says. “Minus senior year. You know, he was in love with her in grade school, too, so.”

“All right, all right, stop before you hurt yourself,” she says, nudging him with a laugh. “You know, it’s okay to want things to happen. It’s okay to want things for yourself.”

“No, it’s, it’s not a good time right now,” Scott says, shaking his head. “I’m still – I’m not back to who I was before I became an alpha, yet. I should get all that fixed before I shove that onto someone else.”

“Scott, you’re never going to get back to who you were before,” Malia says. “And no one expects you to. You don’t have to be perfect before you let other people in. I grew up with the twins, Scott, trust me on this.”

“I trust you,” he says, and she smiles. “I just, I should…I want to be more okay, first.”

“Well, if it’s what you want, not what you think you should do,” she says. “You’re a True damn Alpha. You kind of wrecked the rulebook.”

“Thanks, Malia.” He wraps her in a hug, tucking his chin over her head. “I’m gonna miss you when you go back to Davis.”

“You wanna try making out first?” she asks. “We’re both pretty good-looking, it could probably work.”

He laughs. “I’m good.”

“You are,” she says. “You’re a good guy, Scott. You deserve good things.”

 

Kenny helps Scott make a “Congratulations On The Sex” cake for Derek. It’s chocolate and covered in mint green frosting. Brooke sends them a picture of the cake on Derek’s desk with Derek hiding behind a copy of _Mockingjay_.

Cora and Erica come back from studying abroad in time for winter break, incredibly disappointed to have missed out on the wendigo like the macabre freaks they are. Isaac publishes a photography book titled _Mi Corazón_ that consists entirely of black-and-white silhouettes of Cora in South America, and starts a line of scarves called Haley. Stiles rolls his eyes, but Lydia loves the scarves and demands one in every style.

The Danny scarf is made of baby alpaca with a simple blue design, and it’s the cuddliest scarf Scott’s ever felt.

The Ethan scarf is squishy with blood-red fringe, and no one finds it funny at all. Ethan, however, thinks it’s _hilarious_.

Scott never does find out who the Death Eaters in his phone were, because Isaac replaces his entire contact list with the X-Men.

 

 **From:** Sean Cassidy, 7:04 am

Derek is extremely happy and running around town for people to hug

 **From:** Sean Cassidy, 7:04 am

This has been your ten second warning

 **To:** Sean Cassidy, 7:05 am

????????????

Scott’s barely finished sending the text to who he’s fairly certain is Gabe (‘cause, Banshee, right? Probably?) when the front door bursts open. He makes it halfway out of bed before Derek tackles him down into the mattress and knocks the air out of his lungs. “I’m an uncle!” he shouts loudly enough to wake up the entire building, clutching Scott to his chest and crushing any last remnants of air from his lungs. “Scott, I’m an uncle!”

He manages to muster up enough breath to wheeze, “’m very happy for you,” before Derek runs out of the room, smacks Scott’s head on the doorframe without noticing, and crashes into Isaac’s room.

Isaac shrieks and falls out of his bed. “Why are you so happy?” he demands. “It’s too early to be happy.”

Scott’s slightly grateful that Derek seems to remember his werewolf strength and doesn’t tackle Isaac into the floor. He’s only slightly grateful, though, because Derek’s solution seems to be swinging Scott around like a ragdoll instead. “You’re an uncle, Isaac!”

Isaac leaps to his feet, a huge smile cracking onto his face. “You mean…?” he asks, tripping over his chair to get to his MacBook Pro. Stiles and Danny crowd sleepily in the doorway as Isaac opens his email to see a picture of Laura tired and smiling in a hospital gown, a tiny baby nestled in her arms. “I’m an uncle!” Isaac yells. “Derek, we’re uncles!” He leaps up and throws his arms around Derek, squashing Scott even further between them.

“Please hug somebody else,” he gasps. He’s pretty sure Derek cracked his ribs twice already.

“We need to call Jackson!” Isaac says, running back to his Mac.

“I never thought I’d actually hear those words,” Stiles says blearily. Danny elbows him into the door. “Owww. Danny, _harsh_.”

Jackson’s face appears on Isaac’s screen. “What do you want, Lahey,” he demands, rubbing at his face. “Why are you so happy.”

“Why’re they always questioning each other’s happiness?” Stiles mutters. “Hales, man.”

“Check your email,” Isaac says, bouncing in his chair.

“Why?” Jackson says, but looks away from the camera to click on what Scott hopes is his mail. “Why is Derek hugging Scott? If this is a prank, I-” His eyes widen as he stares at his screen, and his mouth actually starts trembling. His chin _wrinkles_. Scott is both stunned and horrified.

Derek finally drops Scott – literally drops him, he was holding him a foot off the ground and Scott lands on his poor, bruised ribs – and leans his head next to Isaac. “Jackson,” he says, eyes and voice full of wonder, “We’re uncles.”

Jackson starts crying. He cries so hard that Boyd eventually wanders on screen and awkwardly reaches an arm around his shoulders. Jackson lets out a huge, honking sob and buries his face in Boyd’s chest. It’s the least attractive Scott’s ever seen Jackson, and he can’t even laugh at him. The world is so unfair.

“If it makes anyone’s dignity feel better,” Boyd says, “Erica says Cora and Malia are in pretty much the same state right now.”

Stiles glances at Danny, who’s still watching Jackson bawl with a dangerously concerned look on his face. “Who knew Hales could be so _weepy_.”

 

 **From:** Bobby Drake, 7:42 pm

did u ask him about the stakeout

 **To:** Bobby Drake, 7:43 pm

no not yet

 **From:** Bobby Drake, 7:43 pm

ASK HIM ABOUT TEH STAKEOUT

“That Stiles?” Derek asks, shutting the dishwasher with an amused grin.

Scott shoves his Samsung Galaxy S6 back into his pocket with a sigh and finishes pouring water into the mugs. “Yeah,” he says, dropping a chamomile teabag into Derek’s mug and a peppermint one into his own. “He-” His phone buzzes again.

 **From:** Bobby Drake, 7:45 pm

I KNOW UR NOT ASKING HIM ASK HIM DAMMIT

Derek chuckles into his mug. “What’s he want?”

“Well,” Scott says, following Derek into the living room, “He wants your help with a stakeout.”

“A stakeout,” Derek repeats.

“Yeah,” Scott says. He rubs the back of his head. “The high school got another math teacher for the new school year, and he moved in last week. Stiles doesn’t trust him-”

“Stiles doesn’t trust anyone,” Derek points out.

“Stiles trusts me,” Scott says.

“That doesn’t count.”

He shrugs. “So, anyway, he wants you to help him stake out the guy’s house.”

“I’m not gonna stake out some guy for no reason,” Derek says.

“That’s what I said,” Scott says.

Derek holds out his hand. “So where’s his file?”

“What file?” Scott asks. Derek gives him a look, and he reluctantly hands over the not-entirely-legal file that Stiles and Danny put together. “His name’s Alexander Morozov. He went to BHHS-”

“I know him – knew him,” Derek says immediately, dropping the file onto the coffee table without opening it. “We went to school together. Played basketball. We were friends.”

“Oh, okay,” Scott says. “Allison didn’t remember an Alex from the friends you talked about, so I wasn’t sure-”

“She wouldn’t,” Derek says. “We – I – used to call him Sasha. It’s a diminutive for Alexander,” he explains.

“Oh.” Allison had definitely remembered a Sasha. She’d said that he’d sounded like one of his closest friends, but for some reason she’d never met him when she moved to town. Derek’s brows are drawn together, arms pressed close to his sides, so Scott tries to steer the subject away. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll ask Kenny about him. We just want to make sure he’s not…you know.”

“He knows about werewolves,” Derek says. “He knows about my family.”

“Oh,” Scott says. That changes things, a little. Mostly for the worse. “Okay, um.”

“I told him. When we were in high school. It’s…” He rubs his hands together nervously. “It’s why we’re not friends anymore.” Scott chews on his lip, then quietly pulls the file towards him and puts it away. “What is it?” Derek asks.

“What?”

“There’s something you guys found out that you’re not telling me,” Derek says. “It’s all over your face. You’re a terrible liar, Scott.”

He sighs. “He has a kid.” Derek’s eyebrows shoot up. “It’s his nephew, technically. His parents died in a car accident last year.”

“Misha’s dead?” Derek asks, voice choked. Scott tries to remember the name from the file, Elena and Mikhail Morozov. He carefully wraps his hand around Derek’s. “I’m sorry.”

Derek takes a deep breath. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Are you sure?” Scott asks.

“No,” Derek says. He looks up at Scott. “Could you – would you mind if you came with me?”

Scott squeezes his hand with a small smile. “Of course.”

 

Alex Morozov lives in a quiet neighborhood not far from Scott’s mom’s house. Derek hesitates in front of the doorbell and looks ready to run away, so Scott takes his hand and squeezes it gently. Derek nods back and rings the doorbell.

Alex Morozov opens the door dressed in a loose v-neck shirt and sweatpants. His beard is haphazardly trimmed, and there’s a ketchup stain on the hem of his shirt. He doesn’t look dangerous so much as he looks like an adult who isn’t quite used to single parenthood yet. Scott’s familiar with the look, and he’s sure Derek is, too. “Derek,” he says, gaping in surprise.

Derek stiffens next to Scott, hand locking around his in a viselike grip. “Hi,” Scott says, sticking his free hand out. “I’m Scott Delgado, I’m a friend of Derek’s.”

“Alex Morozov, pleasure to meet you,” he says, shaking his hand. He glances at Derek, who’s still apparently frozen. “Would you like to come in?”

“That’d be great!” Scott mostly ends up pulling Derek into the house and onto the sofa – “Sorry about all the boxes, we’re still moving in,” Alex says – but Derek lets go of his hand to accept the Pepsi that Alex hands him and looks on the verge of some epically dramatic soul-baring. “Actually,” Scott says, “Can I use your bathroom?”

“Yeah, sure, it’s the second on your left,” Alex says, pointing. Scott smiles encouragingly at Derek and flees down the hall. He runs the tap, noticing the stool next to the sink and a child’s Hulk toothbrush in a cup, and tries to think of a way to kill more time when he hears a faint giggling outside. His nose itches.

He opens the door and sees a small child fidgeting just outside the bathroom, chewing on his fist and giggling at him. “Hi,” Scott says, crouching down to the kid’s level. “I’m Scott.”

“’m Anton,” the boy says, still giggling at him. “You wanna play Avengers?”

There’s something about the kid. Scott’s nose won’t stop itching, but he can’t sense anything no matter how hard he tries. He puts it out of his mind, though, when Anton hands him Captain America and goes zooming around the room as Iron Man. Derek and Alex find them some indeterminate time later, opening the door as Scott flies Anton through the air making whooshing noises. “Uh,” Scott says, moving Anton into a safer grip (he’s a werewolf, he wasn’t going to drop him, but Alex still looks a few steps away from a heart attack). “We were just playing Avengers.”

Anton takes one look at Derek and screams, scrambling out of Scott’s arms and over his shoulder to hide behind him. Or, more accurately, to hide _on_ his back. Scott’s not really sure how the kid’s hanging on until he registers the sensation of ten tiny claws prickling his shoulders. He looks over his shoulder and sees yellow eyes staring fearfully at Derek. “Uh.”

Alex rubs his face. “Yeah,” he says slowly. “I was going to work up to that.” He holds out his hands. “Tosha, c’mere.”

Anton shakes his head frantically and buries his head between Scott’s shoulder blades. “Wan’ stay with Scott!”

“Uh,” Scott says. He shifts Anton around to his front, but he just clings to his neck and hides his face in his shirt. “Anton, don’t you want to go with your, uh…” He trails off, glancing at Alex.

“Anton.” Derek steps forward and slowly kneels. He keeps his yellow eyes fixed on Anton’s as he slowly bares his throat. Anton’s claws retract, and he slithers down Scott’s body to glare at Derek. “I’m Derek.”

Anton glances up at Alex before scowling at Derek. “Nice to meet you, Derek,” he says, shaking his hand solemnly. Then he not-quite-runs back to Scott and clings to his leg.

“Did you just submit to my four-year-old,” Alex says.

“Shut up, Sasha,” Derek says, but he beams up at Scott.

 

“How did you adopt a _four-year-old werewolf_ into the pack,” Stiles demands.

“It was kind of an accident!” Scott says defensively. “I didn’t know he was a werewolf, he only shifts when he’s really distressed and the rest of the time you can’t even tell, and I was the first alpha he met so he kinda…imprinted on me?”

Stiles sighs in exasperation. “Well, I think he’s adorable!” Kira says, bouncing Anton on her knees.

“You think everything’s adorable,” Stiles says. “Scott, you can _not_ alpha a four-year-old.”

“We talked to Talia,” Scott says. “He’s so young, there’s not really much I have to do. He doesn’t even shift during the full moon, yet. Just being in a pack is enough to stabilize him for the next few years.”

“Fine,” Stiles says grudgingly. He points a finger at Anton. “But just so we’re clear, buddy, I was here first. I’m higher on the pecking order, okay, you submit to me.”

Anton squeezes his finger and laughs.

 

Scott walks into the apartment, takes one look at Isaac’s smug face and one sniff at the air, and says, “You didn’t.”

“I did,” Isaac says gleefully.

“You _didn’t_.”

“Oh, I _did_.”

“Did what?” Stiles asks, dropping the box of cookies on the table and cramming two into his mouth. “Kira made us cookies because she has no faith in our self-feeding abilities, you want some?”

Isaac opens his mouth. “Turn that into a euphemism and you don’t get any,” Scott says firmly. Isaac shuts his mouth and holds out his hand for a cookie.

Ethan walks out of Isaac’s room, nods a hello at Scott and Stiles, then closes the bathroom door behind him. Stiles boggles at the door before turning his stare on Isaac. “You _didn’t_.”

“He did,” Scott groans.

“Dude! Violation of the bro code!”

“I’m sorry, am I supposed to wait a three year mourning period before I can fuck my friend’s ex?” Isaac asks. He opens the fridge and starts shoving aside takeout containers to get to the milk all the way in the back.

“Or, y’know, never,” Stiles says. “Especially when it’s kind of your ex’s ex. I know you weren’t actually dating, but.” He makes a face and waves his hand. “It’s not exactly kosher.”

“That’s just like, the rules of feminism,” Scott mumbles. Stiles rolls his eyes, and Isaac snorts from the depths of the fridge.

“That’s me,” he says dryly. “I just love being kosher. Dude, this thing has been in here so long I don’t even know what it’s supposed to be anymore. I think it’s become sentient.”

Ethan walks out of Isaac’s room, nods a hello at Scott and Stiles, then notices Isaac’s butt sticking out of the fridge and plants a ringing smack on it. “Son of a-!” Isaac jumps and bangs his head against the freezer.

“Hey, you deserve it,” Stiles says. “Kira made cookies, Ethan, want some?”

“I’m Aiden,” he says, sounding slightly annoyed. “But sure, thanks.”

Stiles gapes as Aiden accepts the cookie from his outstretched hand. He leans around him to glare at Isaac. “But you said-”

“He did,” Scott says resignedly. Isaac smirks at them and raises the carton to his mouth.

“Gross, man, use a glass,” Ethan chides as he walks out of the bathroom. “Oh, hey, did Kira make those?”

“Yeah, want some?” Scott asks, holding out the plate while Stiles blinks wordlessly between the twins.

Ethan takes a cookie with a smile. “Thanks,” he says. “Well, we gotta go. See you around!”

Stiles waves dazedly as the twins head out the door, then gapes at Isaac as he sits down next to them. “You _didn’t_.”

Isaac stretches lazily. “Yeah,” he says. “I’m just _that_ good.”

 

“Damn,” Danny whistles when he finds out. “Like, I’m not even mad. I’m really impressed.”

“I know, right?” Isaac says, like the exemplar of humility that he is. “Sex with one werewolf is amazing.”

“Yeah, it is,” Boyd says, fistbumping Isaac without looking up from his book.

“But sex with _two_ werewolves…” Isaac says, and waggles his eyebrows.

Boyd actually puts his book down. “ _Yeah_ , it is,” he says, high-fiving Isaac.

“Damn,” Danny breathes.

Isaac nods. “Werewolves, man. Fucking werewolves.”

“I’m a werewolf,” Scott says, because he’s not entirely sure why he’s here right now and he hasn’t contributed to the conversation at all. He should’ve gone with the girls to beach yoga. He should still go now. He can probably manage at least a tree pose.

They look at him with varying degrees of pity. Even Stiles. “Well,” Isaac says, “I don’t imagine it’s as much fun when you’re just having sex with yourself.”

Boyd laughs so hard he actually has to close his book.

 

_When I was fifteen and you were eighteen and I met you for the first time, I thought you were the coolest person in the world. I thought you were so grown-up, and so confident, and so brave, and I admired you so much. I couldn’t wait to meet you again._

_When you were fifteen and I was twenty-two and you met me for the first time, I thought you were so awkward. You weren’t anything like that man I’d met that night, and I was so confused. I waited and waited for you to become that cool, confident man, because I was so sure that if I just waited long enough, you’d come back to me._

_I should have known that I never had to wait at all. You were always right there in front of me. You’ve always been brave, you’ve always been confident, and you’ve always been cool. (Okay, you haven’t always been cool.) I told you that I would wait for you, but really, I should have asked you to wait for me. I couldn’t see what was right in front of me._

 

The guy next to Scott rifles frantically through his bag and all but upends it onto his desk as the sign-in sheet makes its way towards them. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. Scott taps his desk and holds out the sheet and a pen. The guy looks up with wide green-blue eyes. “Thanks,” he says, scribbling his name onto the sheet and passing it along before turning back to Scott with the pen.

Scott pulls another one out of his bag. “Keep it.”

The guy beams, cheeks plumping and eyes crinkling and oh no, Scott is screwed. “Thanks!” he says again. “I’m sorry, I must look like a total spazz. Who forgets a pen on the first day of class, you know?”

Scott thinks of Allison’s and Kira’s first days of school and smiles fondly. “You’d be surprised,” he says. “Probably more important to remember your laptop, anyway,” he adds, nodding at the MacBook Air on the guy’s desk.

“True,” the guy says. “I’d be so screwed without this, I can’t take notes fast enough by hand.” He fiddles with the sleeve of his leather jacket for a moment, then turns to fully face Scott, all dark hair and bright eyes and wide, blinding smile. “I’m Miguel,” he says, holding out his hand.

He shakes it, a smile of his own creeping onto his face. “Scott.”

 

“So when are we going to meet _Miguel?_ ” Allison asks, because she may be twenty-one years old and rapidly approaching O-Ren Ishii levels of hunter renown, but she is actually a high school freshman when it comes to her friends’ love lives.

“We’ve only been on two-and-a-half dates, it’s-” Scott begins, and then groans internally. Shit.

“Ooh, _and-a-half_ ,” Kira coos, every bit as immature as her girlfriend. Scott’s just grateful Lydia and Malia are far away and no one thought to FaceTime them in to this conversation. “You’ve got it bad, Scott.”

Scott sighs. He kind of does. He can’t help it, when he falls for people, he falls _fast_. Like Allison, and Kira, and…and Miguel.

(Derek was never going to happen. It just…he had his chance with him, and this time around things are too different, probably. Derek doesn’t need him.

Derek doesn’t _want_ him, and that’s what matters more.

Derek can stand on his own two feet without being bowed down by years of guilt, and he’s surrounded by friends and family who love him, and he can hold them close and tell them he loves them without fearing that they’ll disappear…and that’s what matters most. He can reach for what he wants, not just what he needs.)

Miguel _wants_ him, and he knows exactly what to say to make him laugh, and his smile is so bright and infectious and he makes Scott light up inside. He doesn’t know everything about Scott, but…he doesn’t have to, right? Scott’s getting so much better at keeping the past in the past. No one has to know about that.

“We’re just really happy for you, Scott,” Stiles says softly, then brightens. “So! When do we get to meet him?”

Scott glances around the table warily. Allison tries to nibble her salad as innocently as possible, which is her first mistake. She always eats salad when she’s scheming, but trying to not actually look like she’s scheming. “You, soon,” he says to Stiles, who cheers around his disgusting mouthful of curly fries. “You, less soon,” he tells Allison, who squeaks in righteous indignation. “You, never,” he adds to Isaac.

Isaac chokes on his Pepsi. “Whaaaaat?” he demands. “Harsh!”

“No, he’s got a point,” Stiles says. “Besides, what are you even doing here? This was clearly a meeting of Scott’s Exes Plus Stiles.”

“I kissed Scott once,” Isaac says, and takes advantage of Stiles’ frozen shock to steal a handful of curly fries. He already has half of Kira’s Doritos and all of Allison’s croutons on his plate because he’s a serial lunch poacher. It’s why Scott drowns his own food in ketchup. The Hales have a weird aversion to ketchup. “That counts.”

“You – dude!” Stiles swivels around to gape at Scott instead. _“Dude!_ Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I was respecting Isaac’s wishes and that trumps the Best Friend card that you’re about to try?” Scott says. It had been in high school, and Isaac had thought he was in love with him because he was afraid of not being in love with anyone. It wasn’t a big deal for Scott, but it had been for Isaac. “If you really want to know, you’ll have to ask him.”

Stiles turns back to Isaac, and they recoil from each other like the actual ten-year-olds that they are. “Nah, no, I’m good.”

“Why don’t I get to meet Miguel?” Isaac whines, pouting sadly at him.

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Dude, Scott taught you those puppy eyes, they’re not going to work on him.” Isaac huffs and goes back to eating his stolen fries. “And you don’t get to meet him because you’re the actual worst.”

“I am not!” Isaac says. “I can totally be civil around significant others.”

“Isaac, you tried to scare me off at least three different times when I was dating Scott, and you already knew me,” Kira says. “Besides,” she adds with a wicked smirk.

“Don’t,” Scott says urgently. She ignores him.

“ _I_ already met Miguel,” Kira says smugly. “He’s very nice.”

Stiles makes a face. “You think everyone’s nice, Kira,” he says. “You think Jackson’s nice.”

“That’s because Jackson _is_ nice,” Kira says, Allison nodding firmly next to her.

 **From:** Jackson Whittemore, 1:25 pm

please punch danny for me, he’s flirting with someone else’s boyfriend

Scott frowns at his Samsung Galaxy S6 before shrugging and putting it away. Maybe Jackson’s losing his weird psychic touch with Danny. “He’s not all bad,” he says.

“He’s an asshole,” Stiles says. “Derek agrees with me. Speaking of Derek-”

“Do you really get to use that transition if you’re the one who brought it up?” Kira asks. Her eyes widen. “Actually, _speaking_ of Derek-”

“Did you just override my own transition,” Stiles says, nonplussed.

“Like, Miguel,” Kira says. “Scott. You know. _Miguel_.”

She nods at him earnestly. He’s confused. “What does Derek have to do with Miguel?”

Her face twists the way it does when she doesn’t quite know how to break the news to someone. “Oh, Scott.”

_“What?”_

“Heyyyyyy, Scott,” Danny says, crunching through the leaves in the courtyard and sliding into the seat next to him. “So, I may or may not have just accidentally flirted with your boyfriend, my bad.”

Stiles leans over and smacks Danny upside the head. “Jesus, Danny, you’re the worst.”

“In my defense, I didn’t know he was Scott’s boyfriend at the time,” Danny says, holding his hands up. “But he seems like a nice guy. Really cute, too.” He sticks his fist out, and Scott bumps it, bemused. “I approve.”

“Danny, you have the worst taste in guys ever,” Stiles says. “I don’t think your approval is actually a good thing.”

“Stiles,” Kira admonishes. “Isaac is _right there_.”

“No, he has a point,” Isaac says, nodding. “Me, Ethan, Derek, and, of course-”

Danny practically flings himself across the table to slap a hand over Isaac’s mouth. “Speaking of Derek,” he says quickly.

“Wait, who’s the ‘of course?’” Stiles asks.

“Speaking of Derek!” Kira says excitedly, pulling Danny back into his seat. “You saw it too, right?”

“Saw what?” Allison asks.

“It’s the first thing I noticed,” Danny says. “How can you _not?_ ”

“How can you not _what?”_ Stiles demands.

They turn to him, matching innocent expressions on their faces. It works a lot better with Kira, because she isn’t secretly an asshole. “You’ll see,” Kira says vaguely.

“Oh _boy_ you will,” Danny says. He reaches for a curly fry, and Stiles smacks his hand.

 **To:** Jackson Whittemore, 1:38 pm

HOW DO YOU ALWAYS KNOW THESE THINGS

 **From:** Jackson Whittemore, 1:39 pm

he’s been my best friend for 15 years of course i always know these things

“Oh yeah.” Scott cuffs the back of Isaac’s head. “Stop messing with my phone contacts.”

“Stop using the same damn password,” Isaac counters. He snatches a chicken strip from Scott’s plate and bites into it victoriously. Scott smirks as he grimaces around the ketchup and puts the rest of it back.

 

“So, I’m really sorry about my friends,” Scott says as they walk up the driveway.

“Scott,” Miguel says with a smile, “I haven’t even met them yet.”

“I need to apologize in advance,” Scott says. “Trust me, I do.”

“I’m sure they’re great people,” Miguel says. “Kira’s really nice. We text a lot.”

“Oh, no,” Scott mutters under his breath. Kira’s adorable in texts, if a little exclamation point-heavy, but she also lets Allison get in on her conversations, and Allison…Allison in text form is an acquired taste. “Okay, so, they mean well. They’re just a little…exuberant.”

Miguel stops at the door and pats self-consciously at his hair. “I just hope they like me,” he says.

“They will,” Scott says, reaching up and smoothing a stray hair. Miguel smiles and ducks in for a quick kiss. “They just come on kinda strong.”

Isaac opens the door. He’s not even supposed to be here. “Oh, no,” Scott says.

“Oh, _yes_ ,” Isaac says, grinning evilly at Scott. Then he looks at Miguel, and his jaw drops. “Oh, no.”

“Oh, no?” Miguel repeats uncertainly.

Allison shoves Isaac out of the way and straight into the wall, a huge grin on her face. “Miguel!” she says. “It’s great to finally meet you. I’m Allison, Kira’s girlfriend.”

He shakes her hand eagerly. “It’s great to meet you, too! Kira’s told me so much about you.”

“Same,” Allison says, looking him up and down with raised eyebrows. “Wow, she wasn’t kidding,” she mutters.

“Huh?” Miguel asks.

“Oh, just that you have…a great…beard,” Allison says lamely. “Uh, make yourself at home, dinner will be ready soon, and this one’s Isaac, ignore everything he says, he’s not even supposed to be here.”

“I resent that,” Isaac says as Allison hauls him over one shoulder and carries him into the depths of Derek’s house. “Put me down, woman!”

“Well,” Miguel says, turning to Scott. “That was interesting. They seem fun.”

Scott can’t drag his face away from his hands. “I’m so sorry. See why I needed to apologize for them in advance?”

“Hey.” Miguel pulls his hands down and kisses the knuckles gently. “Everyone’s friends are kinda crazy. You should meet my cousin, Geronimo.”

“Is that really his name?”

“No, but it’s a hell of a lot easier to pronounce than his real one,” Miguel says. He squeezes his hand. “Don’t worry so much. It’s all good.”

“Miguel!” Stiles says, running over for a fistbump when they get to the dining room. “Glad you could make it! Sorry about Isaac, he’s the worst.”

“Ah, he seems like a funny guy,” Miguel says, shrugging easily.

“Oh, and how,” Stiles says darkly. “Anyway, you’ve already met Danny and Kira,” he points towards the couch, where the two wave at them, “And this is the guy who actually lives here, Der-” He stops, looking around when Derek doesn’t immediately appear next to him. “Derek!” he yells, stomping into the kitchen. “Stop being a weirdo and greet your guest already!”

“If I trusted any of you with an oven, I would have,” Derek grumbles as he follows Stiles into the dining room before pasting a smile on his face and holding his hand out to Miguel. “Hi! I’m Derek, I’m the guy who actually lives here.”

“Yeah, I said that already,” Stiles says. “You’re going to actually have to come up with actual conversa-”

Parrish darts out of the kitchen, shrugging into his work jacket. “Play nice, Stiles. I’m glad I caught you before I had to leave,” he says, shaking Miguel’s hand. “Deputy Parrish. If these two get up to any shenanigans, just let me know and I’ll take care of it.”

“My dad does not love you more than me!” Stiles says indignantly while Derek rolls his eyes and kisses Parrish goodbye. “He doesn’t,” Stiles says to Scott.

“I mean, he lets your dad have a donut every other week,” Scott says.

Stiles gapes in betrayal and runs out the door after Parrish. “I’m on to you, asshole! Come back here!”

Miguel turns back to Derek and abruptly starts laughing, eyes crinkling and nose scrunching. “Oh, man,” he says. “Derek, I love your shirt.”

“Huh? My-” Derek looks down at himself, then up at Miguel, then laughs so hard his eyes squeeze shut. “Oh, man. I should go change.”

“No, it’s great,” Miguel says, flapping a hand as he tries to catch his breath. “It means we have something in common.” He straightens and places a hand on Derek’s shoulder. “No matter what happens, we’ll at least have bonded over wearing the same thumbhole sweater.”

“Well, that’s because thumbholes are awesome,” Derek says. “They’re so-”

“Comfortable, I know, right?”

Scott looks back and forth between Derek and Miguel, beaming at each other with matching smiles and crinkles at the corners of their green-blue eyes and dark fluffy hair and _the same damn sweater_ , and says, “Oh, no.”

Danny promptly excuses himself and spends twenty minutes laughing in the bathroom.

Isaac doesn’t even bother excusing himself, just giggles maniacally all through dinner and blames it on the wine.

 

Miguel breaks up with him. The surprising part is that he doesn’t dump him immediately after the dinner, but rather, three weeks and two breakfast dates with Derek and Parrish later.

“I was kinda caught off guard when I first met Derek,” he admits. “With the whole, y’know, doppelganger thing. “But he’s a great guy, and you’re really close friends, so I thought it might’ve just been a coincidence. But,” he jams his hands in his pockets. “It’s really not, is it?”

“I’m sorry,” Scott says. “I really didn’t mean to. I didn’t even realize until I saw you in the same room together. I mean,” He takes Miguel’s hand and is grateful when he doesn’t pull away. “It doesn’t make it any less shitty. I’m really sorry. You don’t deserve that.”

“Yeah,” Miguel says simply, nodding. “I really like you, Scott.”

“I really like you, too,” he says helplessly.

“I know,” he says. “But I can’t be with you when you’re clearly not over Derek.”

“I know.” He looks down. “I really thought I was. I’m sorry. This wasn’t fair to you at all.”

“Hey, all’s fair in love and war,” Miguel says. He squeezes his hand. “Listen, I know it’s not really my place as your ex-boyfriend,” Scott hears his heart trip over the word, and his does the same, “But you should probably try to figure out this thing with Derek or whatever. Really. It’s holding you back and, yeah, it wasn’t fair that I got caught up in it, but it’s not fair to you, either.”

Scott nods. “Thanks. Man, you’re way too good for me.”

“Nah,” Miguel says. “You’re a great person. You just maybe have to try to let things go sometimes.” He stands, and they hug, awkwardly, for the last time. “I’ll see you around, Scott.”

“See you around, Miguel,” he says, and watches him walk out the door and out of his life.

Okay, he’s being melodramatic. He’ll still see him in Psych 309. Maybe on opposite sides of the classroom, from now on. That might be better.

Kenny walks by his table ten minutes later and sets down a slice of chocolate chip cheesecake. “Man,” he says. “Why d’you always gotta break up with your exes here?”

“Allison and I didn’t – oh, yeah, we did, huh,” Scott says.

Kenny nods knowingly. “I may be an old fart, but I remember these things.”

“You’re not an old fart, Kenny,” Scott says loyally.

“Because if I am, then Derek is, too, and you can’t deal with being in love with an old fart?”

Scott blinks. “No,” he says decidedly. “No to everything about that entire sentence.”

“You’re really bad at denial, Scott,” Kenny says. “Even your ex-boyfriend picked up on that. Sorry, is that too soon?”

Scott huffs. “It’s not like I pick out the venue ahead of time or anything,” he says. “I just end up coming here a lot. You make really good food.” _And I’ve known you for the past seven years, but another time I never knew you at all_ , he doesn’t add. _I don’t know what happened to you, if you left town or you were still there or if you died, too_ , he doesn’t add.

“Aw, shucks,” Kenny says with a grin. He nudges the cheesecake towards him. “On the house. Just like the other two times.” He ruffles his hair. “Cheer up, buddy. It’ll all work out.”

 

“So, the semester’s almost over,” Scott says.

Derek looks up from his plate of spaghetti. “…Okay?” he asks, confused.

“And Allison and Kira are looking for somewhere off-campus, too, so Stiles was thinking the four of us could all rent a place together,” Scott says. “And I’ve gotten a lot better with the dreams, so I think I’ll be okay somewhere that isn’t here, y’know, and I can move out of your guest room for good.” It’ll take a while to separate their stuff, since he’s dropped so much stuff off here and it’s all mixed up with Derek’s now, but he can get out of Derek’s hair and stop relying on him so much. Derek should like that. It’ll be great.

Instead, the corners of Derek’s mouth turn down. “Oh,” he says awkwardly. “Yeah. If you want, that’s – yeah. It’s really boring living here, and it’s far from campus, and-” He shoves a huge forkful of spaghetti into his mouth and glances everywhere but Scott’s face.

And that’s – oh. He’d thought Derek just tolerated him being here, out of pack responsibility. “I don’t want to keep taking up space in your life,” Scott says. “I like living here, I just – I’m better now. I don’t _need_ to stay here, if you don’t want me to.”

Derek swallows. There’s spaghetti sauce all over his mouth and caught in his beard, and Scott wishes he didn’t find it so sweet. “I like you living here, too,” he says. “I mean,” he adds quickly, “It’s nice having someone else around, this house really isn’t meant for just one person, so.” His eyes dart up to meet Scott’s. “I’d like it if you stayed.”

Scott beams. “Me, too.” Derek smiles back, then his eyebrows shoot up and he looks away with a snort. “What?”

“Nothing,” Derek says, struggling to keep a straight face. “It’s just – you’ve got some tomato stuck between your teeth.”

“Aw, shit.” He reaches up with his tongue and tries to pull the errant tomato free, and Derek drops his head into his hand while his shoulders shake with laughter. “Shut up.”

“No, it looks good on you, really.”

 **To:** Stiles Stilinski, 8:52 pm

hey so im gonna live w derek instead, sorry

 **From:** Stiles Stilinski, 8:52 pm

good bc i already told danny he could b our 4th

 **To:** Stiles Stilinski, 8:53 pm

…

 **To:** Stiles Stilinski, 8:53 pm

u lil shit

 **From:** Stiles Stilinski, 8: 54 pm

not my fault u 2 r super predictable

 

_Did I do okay?_

_I messed a lot up. I messed everything up._

_But I –_

_Sometimes I wish I could ask you, just so I could know. But that’s so disgustingly selfish of me. That’s not fair to you at all._

_I just –_

_I’m sorry if I made things worse_

_I hope I didn’t make things worse_

_I tried, I really did. But trying doesn’t mean a damn thing compared to what actually happened. And what happened is I messed up. I messed everything up._

 

The chimera comes back. Or, well, it shows up in the first place. Scott had thought the Nemeton had drawn it in before, but then again, Mr. Wilson had become a wendigo anyway, so maybe it was only a matter of time. The Nemeton is still dormant, at least, and Noshiko seems convinced the nogitsune won’t rise for a few centuries at least.

Talia orders Scott to guard the pack – actually orders him, with her alpha voice and everything – and takes her sister and in-laws to deal with the chimera. Chris Argent even takes his men to seal the town borders after dropping off Allison at the house. “I’m getting the feeling this is kind of a big deal,” Stiles says, watching Belladonna pace around the living room while Allison checks her bow for the tenth time that hour.

“It’s a chimera,” Lydia says, tugging at her hands restlessly. Thunder booms outside, drowning out any of the roars from the fight. “It has three heads. The snake head has deadly venom, and the goat head breathes _fire_ , and it’s three times the size of a regular lion. What do you think?”

“I should be out there with them,” Belladonna says. “I should be helping them, protecting our alpha, our _parents_ -”

“We’re here to preserve the line of succession,” Derek says, hunched over in the chair next to the fireplace. “If something happens to our parents, we’re next in line.”

“But no one’s going to die,” Isaac says. His voice quavers. “Right, Derek? They might get hurt, but no one’s going to _die._ ”

“Scott’s an alpha, Allison’s the leader of the hunters, and yet they’re both in here with us,” Malia says. “What do you think?”

Allison crouches next to Scott, waving Lydia and Stiles over. Lydia snaps her fingers, and a soundproof bubble goes up around them. “We need a plan,” she says.

Scott nods. It’s been hours. “Our priority is containment,” he says. “We can’t let it get outside the Preserve. Stiles, you go with Danny and Isaac to the police department and get the entire town on lockdown.”

“I’m going with you,” Stiles says. “You need me and Lydia for spellwork if Deaton’s out of commission.”

“We have Johanna,” Scott says. “She has more training than you.”

“And she’s also a doctor, and we’re going to need that,” Stiles says. “I know I’m just human, but I’m going in with the rest of you.”

“Stiles-”

“He’s right, Scott,” Allison says. “I’ll take both the twins, establish a perimeter. Belladonna and Kira have weapons, they should go with you, Scott.”

“Wait,” Lydia says. “Scott, you can’t go up against the chimera with just that.”

“They’re still fighting,” Scott says. “We’re just there to help them finish the job.”

“It’s been hours,” Lydia says. “We all know what’s happened by now. It’s not a fight anymore.”

“That’s why Derek and Cora are staying here,” Scott says. “Preserving the line of succession.”

Derek and Belladonna leap to their feet as a police cruiser rumbles to a stop outside. Stiles pops the soundproof bubble as Cora opens the front door to reveal Talia Hale, covered in blood, leaning heavily on Deputy Parrish. Dahlia walks in after them, her right arm shredded down to the bone. Scott hears Stiles quietly gag behind him. “Mom!” Belladonna yells.

Dahlia waves her off. “Deaton managed to immobilize it, but it’ll wear off within the hour,” she says. “I’m sorry, Scott. We need your help.”

A hand closes around Scott’s arm, right over his tattoo. “In case you were going to try to leave without me,” Derek says. He nods at Allison. “What’s the plan?”

 

“This is a terrible plan,” Aiden says as they leave him at his perimeter point. “I’d just like to state that for the record.”

Belladonna whacks the back of his head. “Have more respect for your alpha. And make sure the chimera doesn’t get past you.”

“Make sure you don’t die,” Aiden retorts. “I mean it,” he adds. “I kinda like you guys. Try not to die.”

“Everyone’s so fatalistic tonight. That’s usually my job,” Stiles says. He wipes rain out of his eyes. “Is it the torrential downpour going on? I hear rain tends to dampen the mood.”

“It’s simple enough to defeat,” Lydia says. “And it’s weakened. We just need to rip out its heart and destroy it.”

“Yeah,” Kira says with a slightly hysterical laugh. “So simple.”

They stop when they see the chimera in the distance, covered in scratches and twitching as Deaton’s effects wear off. “This is far enough for you three,” Scott says. “Erica, if the chimera gets past us, you take Stiles and Lydia and run. Jackson and the twins will stop it, you just get them to safety.” Erica nods.

Lydia kneels, opening a spellbook on her Samsung Galaxy Tab. “We’ll slow it down as much as we can,” she says. She glances nervously at Allison before looking up at Scott. “Good luck.”

Thunder crackles overhead. “It’s kind of comforting, isn’t it?” Kira says, gazing up at the sky.

“Speak for yourself,” Belladonna says with a shiver. She notches an arrow and nods at Scott.

“Remember,” Derek says as they approach the chimera slowly struggling to its feet. “Avoid the venom. And the fire. And the hundred-pound paws.”

“Your pep talks are amazing,” Malia says. Her claws snap out, and fur ripples over her body.

Lightning illuminates the clearing, and the chimera’s eyes snap open. It stands, lion’s head staring straight at Scott, and thunder booms over their heads. The chimera lunges forward.

An arrow pierces clean through the lion’s throat, but it barely stumbles before leaping at Scott. He ducks and rolls, coming up on its side and slashing into its ribs. Derek roars at it from the other side of the clearing, and it swats Scott back with a massive paw before whirling and running at Derek.

Malia leaps at the goat’s head, seizing it by the horns and dragging the chimera down onto its side. Derek runs forward and claws into its chest before the lion seizes him in its jaws and hurls him through a tree and into a boulder. His head snaps back and he falls to the forest floor, unconscious. Scott pulls Malia back before the chimera rolls on top of her, and the chimera lunges forward and gores him on the goat’s horns. Malia scrambles back as it spits fire at her.

Kira ducks in to pull Scott free. Her head snaps to the sky. “Kira?” Scott asks, coughing past the blood in his throat.

She flings him away and leaps onto the chimera’s back, katana held high. Scott flinches back from the crash of thunder as lightning strikes the sword and engulfs them both, the chimera roaring in pain. Kira raises the katana, crackling with electricity, and slices the goat’s head off.

“Holy shit,” Scott gasps. Malia nods faintly as she pulls him to his feet. Kira grins at them, katana still crackling, and then the snake rears up and sinks its fangs into her neck.

“Kira!” Allison screams.

Kira gasps, shuddering as the snake draws back, and falls limply to the ground. Belladonna rushes forward and grabs her before the chimera crushes her beneath its paws, cradling her to her chest and running immediately out of the Preserve.

An arrow whistles past Scott and pins the snake to the ground, thrumming with magic as the chimera struggles against it. Malia seizes the katana, ignoring the electricity zapping her arms, and cuts the snake off. The chimera whirls, crushing her leg beneath two heavy paws, and then lion bends to grip the disembodied goat’s head in its mouth.

“Oh, shit.” Scott runs forward and pulls Malia out of the way as the chimera spins, the goat’s head spitting flames across the forest floor. “Contain the fire!” Scott yells to Lydia, and then looks down at the katana and still-trapped snake’s head at his feet. “What are you doing?” Malia gasps as he carefully grips the snake’s mouth and coats the blade in venom. She tries to stand, but her bones are still knitting back together. “Scott, be _careful_.”

“No time for that, anymore,” Scott says, and leaps through the flames. The lion drops the goat’s head and runs at him head on, and Scott thrusts the katana into its mouth and out the back of its head.

He lets go as the chimera shrieks and venom bubbles through its skull, and tries to duck under its flailing paws. A claw catches him across the face and sends him sprawling. He quickly rolls back to his feet, ready to dodge, but instead watches the chimera roar as it falls back onto its spasming hind legs. A familiar arm snakes around its throat and pulls, and then the chimera tips onto its back and crushes Derek beneath it.

“Derek!” Scott screams, but he knows that he can’t help him. Derek gave him a chance, and it’s the last one they’ll get – he leaps onto the chimera’s chest, sinking his claws in to anchor against its paws’ frantic blows, and plunges his claws past its ribs. He feels teeth sink into his neck and fling him into the heart of the fire, but it doesn’t matter, because the heart beats steady and defiant in his hand. It’s over.

Malia pulls him out of the fire, rolling him around on his burned skin to put out the flames, and plucks the heart from his hand, tearing it into pieces. “Scott, can you hear me?”

“Derek,” Scott mutters. “Is he…” He turns his head to side and squints through the flames, watching Erica shove the twitching carcass aside. She stands, Derek’s broken body in her arms, her jaw trembling the same way Derek’s had, once, in a bank vault an eternity ago. “Derek.” He struggles against Malia’s arms. “I have to-”

“Scott, you gotta come with us, we need to get you to Johanna,” Stiles says. “Come on, you’re hurt, stop struggling.”

“Derek,” Scott repeats. “He’s-”

“He’s going to be fine,” Stiles says, but he glances back at Erica and his voice wobbles. Derek’s face is turned away from them, he isn’t moving, and Scott can’t hear anyone’s heart through the blood pounding in his ears. “Come on, Scott, Malia’s hurt, stop it, you’re going to hurt her, too, okay?”

“Just,” Scott says, leaning away from Malia and pushing feebly at Stiles’ arms. “Just let me see Derek-” He feels a tiny prick in the side of his neck, and then the world goes black.

 

When Scott comes to, the first thing he hears is, “Derek’s okay.”

He squints muzzily at Allison. “You tranquilized me.”

“Yes, I did,” she says with a nod. “You were badly burned, and we needed to get you and Malia to medical care. Path of least resistance. And Derek’s okay.”

Scott closes his eyes and hears Derek’s heartbeat thumping further away. “Thanks.” He can hear Derek, and Stiles, and Lydia, and Malia, and Allison, of course, and – his eyes fly open. “Kira?” he gasps, leaping out of bed. “Where’s Kira?”

Allison slams him back onto the bed. “She’s getting groceries with Isaac and Boyd,” she says. “Belladonna got her back here in time, and she made a full recovery.” She smooths his shirt with trembling hands. “I was scared, too.”

Scott looks around the room. There’s a white ceiling, with a blue splatter next to the light from when Cora scared Isaac in the middle of painting. There’s Chippen, Derek’s stuffed jaguar, sitting on the dresser like she always has. Scott frowns at it. “Why’m I in Derek’s room? Why isn’t Derek in here?”

“You’re an alpha, you healed faster,” Allison says. “He wasn’t stable enough for us to move him up the stairs.” She follows his gaze and laughs, plucking the jaguar off the dresser and cuddling it close. “She’s an ugly little thing, isn’t she?” she says fondly. “Look, her fangs aren’t even the same size.”

“She’s not that bad looking,” Scott says loyally, petting her when Allison holds her out to him. “Is that why he named her Chippen? Because her fang’s chipped?”

Allison laughs. “No, she’s Chippen because I named my ugly little wolf Dale. We won them together when we first met. Chippen, Dale. You know, Chippendale.” Scott shrugs again, and she shakes her head. “Never mind. Ask Stiles about it some time.”

“Why are you talking about me?” Stiles asks suspiciously as he carries in a tray laden down with food.

“No reason,” Allison says innocently, and grins evilly at Scott when Stiles looks even more paranoid. “Are Kira and them back yet?”

“Not yet,” Stiles says. “So we get to eat oatmeal until they bring back more eggs, yay.” He shoves a glass of orange juice at Scott. “Drink your Vitamin C, you need it.”

“I didn’t almost die,” Scott says, because it’s important to restate. “Allison knocked me out.”

“Yep, she sure did,” Stiles says. “You still looked really gross, man, like…like really gross. And you wouldn’t stop moaning about Derek, which was also gross.”

“I didn’t moan about Derek!” Scott yelps indignantly.

Allison and Stiles share a smirk. “Well,” she says. “Not _that_ kind of moaning.”

Scott chokes on his orange juice. They don’t even pound on his back, just sit there and laugh at him.

 

Paige gives birth to a baby girl, and most of the Hales visit Laura’s pack so that the babies can be baby bros or whatever. Talia leaves Scott and Allison mostly in charge, with Kali Bacari visiting Ms. Morrell while they’re gone.

A few days in, Allison gets a text from Derek and actually squeals when she opens her Samsung Captivate. “Oh my god. Lydia, look at this, oh my god.”

Allison almost never squeals at text messages. This must be a big deal. Scott leaps over the picnic table and squeezes in next to them. “What is it? Can I see?” Lydia tilts the phone to reveal Jackson lifting his giggling niece with the purest joy Scott has ever seen on his face. The caption reads, _so caught up in their own little world they didn’t even notice the camera._ “Oh my god.” Kira actually starts tearing up over his shoulder.

“What, is it another adorable baby picture?” Stiles grumbles as he marches over, Danny strolling behind him. “Derek’s sent us like fifty of them and I’m pretty sure Isaac took enough to publish a whole ‘nother bestseller starring Malia and the babies if he wants to, what’s the…” He trails off when he sees the picture. “Oh my god. He actually _feels_.”

“Of course Jackson feels, Stiles, jeez,” Danny says, plucking the phone out of Kira’s hand. His grin fades when he looks at the picture, and his entire face goes slack.

“Danny?” Allison asks, carefully taking her Samsung Captivate back. His hand is frozen in place, and he doesn’t blink when she waves her hand in front of his face. “Guys, I think we broke Danny.”

“Hell, _I’m_ still in shock,” Stiles says. “Jackson really has real emotions. Who knew?”

“Jackson has always had real emotions,” Danny says, sounding vaguely irritated. His face is still blank, though, and he slowly lowers himself down onto the bench. Scott’s Samsung Galaxy S7 buzzes with a text.

 **From:** Ned Stark’s Bastard, Knows Nothing, 5:39 pm

is danny okay

 **To:** Ned Stark’s Bastard, Knows Nothing, 5:40 pm

what did you feel a disturbance in the danny force or something

 **From:** Ned Stark’s Bastard, Knows Nothing, 5:40 pm

DOES TAHT MEAN HES NOT OKKAY

Lydia scoots next to Danny and wraps her arms around his middle. He automatically hugs her back, which is a good sign. If he’s still hugging people, he can’t be totally broken. Jackson can’t kill them, then, even if he is freaked out enough to not proofread his texts. “You okay, Danny?”

He lets out a shaky breath. “Is this what girls mean when they say their ovaries exploded?”

Allison tries valiantly to keep a straight face. She tries _so_ hard. Stiles, on the other hand, bends in half laughing. “Oh, honey,” Lydia says, patting Danny’s back sympathetically.

Stiles actually starts wheezing. “Isaac’s gonna be so mad he missed this. Oh my god.”

 **From:** Ned Stark’s Bastard, Knows Nothing, 5:40 pm

ANSWER ME GELDAGO

 **To:** Ned Stark’s Bastard, Knows Nothing, 5:41 pm

…was that supposed to be my name?

 **From:** Ned Stark’s Bastard, Knows Nothing, 5:41 pm

I SWEAR I WILL RUN OVER THEERE AND PUNCH YOU IN THE FACE IF HES NOT OKYA

“Scott, will you _stop texting?_ ” Lydia snaps, actually reaching out and swatting his hand. “Danny’s in the middle of a crisis!”

“Jackson’s Danny Senses are tingling, if I ignore him I think he might actually run all the way back here,” Scott says.

Danny’s eyes widen. “Please tell me you didn’t just text him about ovaries.”

Scott looks down to where he’s just pressed Send. “Uh.”

 **To:** Ned Stark’s Bastard, Knows Nothing, 5:42 pm

hes fine, his ovaries just exploded

 **From:** Ned Stark’s Bastard, Knows Nothing, 5:44 pm

what the hell is that supposed to mean

 **From:** Ned Stark’s Bastard, Knows Nothing, 5:44 pm

danny doesn’t have ovaries

 **From:** Ned Stark’s Bastard, Knows Nothing, 5:44 pm

i’m his best friend, he would’ve told me if he had ovaries

He looks up guiltily. “Uh, he may or may not be freaking out about you having ovaries, now.”

Allison and Danny groan. “I don’t get why he always goes to you about these things instead of one of us,” Lydia says. “You never properly learned how to handle an irate Jackson.”

“He goes to Scott because he’s the alpha,” Allison says while Danny takes Scott’s phone. “Jackson’s a beta and he’s always respected the chain of command.”

“But Scott’s not _his_ alpha,” Stiles says. Allison shrugs. “Oh, dude. Dude, _no_.” He turns and slaps at Scott’s leg. “Dude! You can’t have _Jackson_ in your pack!”

“They’ve always responded to Scott’s authority more than Talia’s,” Kira says. “I think it’s because he’s more hands-on.”

“Hands-on?” Stiles repeats. “Wait, who is _they?_ ”

“Jackson,” Danny says into Scott’s phone. “I’m-” He makes a face and holds it away from his ear while Jackson shouts something about emergency numbers and appendicitis. “I’m fine, Jackson, I promise. I just – we need to talk when you get back, okay?” He hangs up as Jackson starts shouting again and glares at Scott. He’s Danny, though, so it’s not so much a glare as it is slight unhappiness and a crushing wave of guilt. Scott’s still half-convinced that they’re going to find out Danny’s some rare mythical creature one day. He won’t be surprised at all.

For his part, Scott nods encouragingly at him. “Open conversation, that’s the spirit, right? Just lay everything out there?”

 **From:** Ned Stark’s Bastard, Knows Nothing, 5:52 pm

WHAT DOES HE MEAN WE NEED TO TALK

 **From:** Ned Stark’s Bastard, Knows Nothing, 5:52 pm

WHAT DID YOU DO

 **To:** Ned Stark’s Bastard, Knows Nothing, 5:53 pm

calm down, jackson

 **To:** Ned Stark’s Bastard, Knows Nothing, 5:53 pm

just hear him out, ok?

 **From:** Ned Stark’s Bastard, Knows Nothing, 5:54 pm

HEAR WHAT OUT

Danny sighs. “There wasn’t anything to lay out until five minutes ago.”

Stiles coughs so hard he starts choking.

 

The day after the Hales come home, Scott gets another text from Jackson.

 **From:** Ned Stark’s Bastard, Knows Nothing, 11:19 am

he just told me i’m in love with you and left what do i do

 **From:** Ned Stark’s Bastard, Knows Nothing, 11:20 pm

that’s a quote i mean i’m not in love with YOU

 **To:** Ned Stark’s Bastard, Knows Nothing, 11:21 am

oh my god

 **To:** Ned Stark’s Bastard, Knows Nothing, 11:22 am

ok paying for your meal is probably a good place to start. leave a good tip too

 **From:** Ned Stark’s Bastard, Knows Nothing, 11:22 am

THAT ISTN HELPFUL

“Lydia,” Scott says, trying to talk over Isaac’s hideous snorting laughter, “Lydia, please help him. He won’t leave me alone.”

“Oh, no,” Lydia says. “I dealt with enough of Jackson’s relationship crap in high school. He’s figuring this one out on his own.”

“Lydia, you _were_ Jackson’s relationship crap in high school,” Allison points out.

“And I dealt with it,” she says sweetly. “Besides, I live with him. His relationship crap in college hasn’t gotten any better. If anything, it’s gotten worse.”

Scott turns to Malia. “No,” she says immediately.

“But-”

“I know he’s my brother, Scott, the answer is still no.”

Scott doesn’t even bother to try with Derek, who’s trying his hardest to hide behind his cheesecake.

 **From:** Ned Stark’s Bastard, Knows Nothing, 11:23 am

SCOTT WHAT DO I DO

Allison tucks her chin over his shoulder to read the texts. “Oh, he’s using first names, he’s getting serious.”

“Why are you enjoying this so much,” Scott says.

She shrugs. “It’s Jackson,” she says, which actually is a pretty effective explanation.

Isaac actually starts crying onto the table. “I waited so long for this day,” he gasps. “It’s better than I ever hoped.”

Jackson bursts through the doors and marches up to their table. “Scott, what do I – why are you all here.”

Stiles immediately opens a menu to hide himself and Lydia behind. Malia squashes under his arm to hide behind it, too. Jackson rolls his eyes. “It’s a public restaurant, Jackson, we’re totally allowed to be here,” Isaac says.

“Please tell me you didn’t track me here,” Scott says.

Jackson crams himself into the booth instead of answering, which means he totally did. Scott can only hope that he didn’t run through town sniffing at the air. “I don’t know what to do,” he says, fiddling with a fork and accidentally bending one of the tines. Scott takes it away and straightens it out as best as he can before anyone notices.

“Okay,” Scott says, looking around the table for assistance. They all become suddenly interested in their food, the damn traitors. Lydia inspects the pasta section of the menu, and Malia looks at the salads. They’re not even _trying._ “Well, how do you feel about him?”

“He’s my best friend,” Jackson says. “And I’m really bad at relationships.”

“Super high maintenance,” Lydia agrees, peering over the menu. “It’s a fun challenge, but not worth it long-term.” Jackson nods in agreement like the complete human disaster that he is.

“Well, Danny’s also really bad at relationships, so that, like, balances each other out, right?” Isaac says.

Scott drops his face into his hands. “Oh my god.”

“But, like, he’s also really good at maintaining positive relationships with his exes, so, that’s good, too? Ow!” Isaac flinches and glares at Allison. “Why are you kicking me? I’m trying!”

“Please stop trying,” Scott says. He lowers his hands. “Okay, Jackson. Danny left the ball in your court, so the way I see it, you have two options. One, you can talk to Danny about how you both feel and work things out together. Or two, you can hide from your best friend for the next five days before you go back to Stanford.” He claps him on the shoulder. “It’s not going to be easy. The choice is yours.”

“Okay.” Jackson nods and stands up. “Thanks, Scott.”

The door chimes shut behind him, and Malia groans into her hand. “Scott, you didn’t.”

“I didn’t what?” Scott asks. “And by the way, thanks for the help.”

“Hey, I tried!” Isaac says defensively.

“You gave Jackson a _choice_ ,” Lydia says. “You never give Jackson a choice for these kinds of things.”

“I’m not going to force him to do something he doesn’t want to do,” Scott says.

“But you gave him the option to self-sabotage,” Allison says. “And once he sees that as an option, he’ll do it.”

“But this is _Danny_ ,” Scott says. “Like, the feelings of one of the most important people in his life are involved, he wouldn’t sabotage that too, right?”

“Oh, Scott,” Lydia says, shaking her head pityingly.

“Oh, no,” Scott says. Derek silently pushes his cheesecake in front of him.

 

“It’s totally fine, man,” Danny says as they walk out of the bookstore with new piles of textbooks. “We’ll have three months to cool off and pretend none of this ever happened, and if we have to avoid each other over Thanksgiving, that’s totally fine, too. Everything will be back to normal by winter break.”

“I’m really sorry,” Scott says.

“Why? It’s not your fault.” He shrugs lightly. “Besides, it’s not like it’s the first time I’ve been in love with someone who didn’t feel the same way.”

Scott stops dead on the sidewalk and stares after Danny. “Wait, _what_.”

 **To:** Jackson Whittemore, 12:48 pm

WHY

 **From:** Jackson Whittemore, 12:50 pm

this is why i’m not a gryffindor

 **To:** Jackson Whittemore, 12:50 pm

oh my god

 

Derek walks up to them one Friday afternoon, says, “I’m borrowing him,” and then pushes Danny into his car and drives away.

“Dude,” Stiles says. “Did Derek just kidnap Danny?”

“I think he did,” Scott says.

They’re still staring at the parking lot when Ethan walks up to them a few minutes later (or hours, maybe. He doesn’t have any more classes till Monday, time doesn’t matter). “Hey, have you seen Isaac? He isn’t answering my texts.”

“Ooh, non-lover’s spat?” Stiles asks, waggling his eyebrows.

Ethan frowns. “I didn’t understand any of that.”

“There’s a surprise.”

“Stiles,” Scott says. Come to think of it, he hasn’t seen Isaac all day. “Wait a minute. Last time I saw him was breakfast.”

Stiles snaps his fingers. “Isaac’s suspiciously absent, Derek kidnapped Danny-”

“Derek kidnapped Danny?” Ethan repeats confusedly.

“-Clearly, Derek’s stealing all the attractive college-aged male humans he knows!” Stiles finishes.

They blink at him. “Well, that means you’re safe, then,” Ethan tells him. “Thanks, Scott.”

Stiles glares at him as he leaves. “And you wonder why I don’t like him.”

“You weren’t serious about the stealing male humans thing, right?” Scott asks.

“Nah, but I have no idea.” He turns to Scott. “Dude. You don’t think he’s rebounding with Danny?”

“Dude,” Scott says. “He and Parrish broke up like two months ago.” He kicks at the sidewalk. “Besides, Derek wouldn’t go for someone who’s, like, seven years younger than him or whatever.”

Stiles glances at him out of the corner of his eye. “Dude.” Scott doesn’t look at him, just focuses on crunching a leaf under his foot. Stiles sighs. “He totally would, Scott.”

 

Derek leaves a note on the table that he’s spending the night at Kenny’s, and it starts pouring as soon as the sun goes down. Isaac shows up a few hours later, soaking wet with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Dude,” Scott says, “Did you walk here? Why didn’t Derek give you a ride?”

“Yeah, the Preserve isn’t that far from here so I figured why not,” Isaac says, dripping all over the doormat. “Wait, how’d you know I was with Derek?”

“He kidnapped Danny earlier and we just assumed you were involved,” Scott says. He opens the linen closet and tosses Isaac a towel or three. “Since you were missing, too. Ethan was kinda worried.”

Isaac peels off his shirt, looks around, then shrugs and drops it on the floor. Scott looks for a bucket in the kitchen. “Ethan’s a worrier like that,” he says, but digs around in his backpack for his Motorola phone.

Scott frowns as a muted but familiar scent reaches his nose. “Isaac,” he says slowly as he moves his wet clothes into a mixing bowl, “Why do you have your wolfsbane handcuffs in your backpack?”

Isaac glances around shiftily. “Kinky werewolf sex?” he tries. Scott rolls his eyes. “Okay, I may or may not have used a pair to handcuff a werewolf to a tree.”

“Oh my god,” Scott says. “Did you turn Danny into a werewolf and handcuff him to a tree?”

“What?” Isaac stares at him like he’s crazy, which is pretty rich coming from the guy clad only in dripping briefs that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. Scott would have preferred to retain a little more imagination, but what’s done is done. “No, Scott, I handcuffed Jackson to a tree.”

“Jackson’s at Stanford.”

“Not anymore, he isn’t,” Isaac says. “That’s why I was gone all day.”

The pieces finally click together in Scott’s head while he drapes a towel over Isaac’s shoulders. “Wait, did you…”

Isaac nods, the shit-eating grin back on his face. “At first things were so awkward I wanted to punch myself in the face, but after it started raining everything went all _The Notebook_.”

“You stayed and _watched?_ ”

“Well, I left with Derek, but then I realized I’d forgotten to leave the key with Danny, so I had to go back and showed up right when they really started tearing into each other.” He shudders. “Dude, fifteen years’ worth of dirt is a _lot_. Please don’t ever get in a fight with Stiles, I’ll probably have to crawl into a corner and cry. So anyway, I just snuck the key into Danny’s jacket and then it started raining and…” He waves his hands, baffled. “Suddenly _The Notebook_. I guess rain just does that to you when you really love someone.”

“Jackson’s watched it so many times it’s probably incepted in his brain or whatever,” Scott says with a shrug. “Dude, you’re shivering.”

Isaac pulls the towel tighter around his shoulders. “The things I do for love,” he quips, teeth chattering. “Am I done dripping yet? I should probably take a shower.”

“I think you’re getting sick,” Scott says as he herds Isaac up the stairs and into the bathroom. “Use the tub and warm up as much as you can. I’ll make soup.”

“You’re the best, Scott.” Scott hears the water run and Isaac warble Miley Cyrus, and smiles to himself as he turns on the stove.

 

Isaac’s hurt, he’s dying, he’s in a hospital bed and it’s Scott’s fault, he didn’t protect him, he didn’t protect any of them –

“-Scott, stop-”

– he won’t heal, they don’t know why he won’t heal, and his skin is so blistered and burned, the pain, god, the pain –

“-going to hurt yourself, Scott, _stop_ -”

– he takes away as much as he can, but there’s so much, he can’t even do this for him, he can’t even keep his pain at bay, he’s so _useless_ –

“-please, Scott, you can’t-”

– just a little more, he can take just a little more pain away, he can’t do anything else, just a little more –

_“Scott!”_

He looks up and sees Derek’s yellow glowing eyes, hears Isaac’s heart hammering away like a jackrabbit, and looks down at his arms wrapped tight around Isaac’s torso, veins running black everywhere skin meets skin. “Sorry, Isaac, I’m so sorry,” he says, jerking away. His arms feel heavy, dragging him down into the mattress, and the veins stand out stark black against his skin as they sluggishly fade.

Isaac flips the light on the nightstand on. “You wouldn’t stop taking my pain away,” he says shakily. “I know I’m getting sick, but-”

“You’re sick?” Derek interrupts, brows snapping together as he presses a palm to Isaac’s forehead.

Isaac rolls his eyes. “I walked around in the rain, I’m getting sick,” he says. “But Scott, you could have seriously hurt yourself. The rate you were going, you could have knocked yourself into a coma.”

He bites through his tongue to keep from laughing, because Isaac had been in a coma for days, healing at a snail’s pace and he hadn’t had any family for the hospital to grant a visit. The blood floods his mouth as his tongue heals sluggishly. Probably as slowly as Isaac had back then, he thinks.

Derek’s nostrils flare when he smells the blood. “Scott,” he begins, but Scott shakes his head, pressing his lips together and swallowing the blood down. Derek sighs. “I’ll stay here with Isaac,” he says instead. “You can use my bed.”

“Um, I’ve been sleeping in my own bed for the past twenty-one years,” Isaac says. “Okay, maybe those first couple of years were in a crib, but the point is, I’m pretty sure I can manage the tiniest of tiny colds just fine on my own.” He doesn’t add, _and I’m not sure Scott’s going to be just fine on his own_ , but they all hear it anyway.

Derek asks, “Scott?”

His tongue’s mostly healed, he thinks. There’s just a tiny bit of blood pooling in his mouth. “’m fine,” he says. He takes a step towards the door and sways as his knees give out underneath him.

“Nope,” Derek says, catching him by the waist and ducking under his arm. “You overtaxed yourself. Isaac, are you going to be okay?”

“I’m pretty sure I could break a board over my head right now and I wouldn’t even feel it,” Isaac says. He shuts the window and turns the light off. “Night, guys.”

Scott tries to move his legs, but it’s like someone tied weights to them. Really, really heavy weights. A tank, maybe. Derek more or less carries him into his bedroom and lets him struggle under the covers on his own. He already left his dignity back when he fell over after one step out of bed, but he appreciates the gesture all the same. “’m sorry,” he mumbles.

Derek climbs into the other side of the bed and drops his arm over his chest. “You don’t have anything to apologize for,” he says.

 

Danny turns up on Saturday with Jackson in tow, very sick and very satisfied. Scott thinks they might actually be glued together at the waist, since they quite literally never leave each other’s side the entire weekend.

Isaac’s eyebrow twitches when he sees Jackson drain some of Danny’s headache. His eyes cut over to Scott for a moment, then his face clears as he apparently decides to let it go. He holds his breath when he lets Scott leech his headache away, eyes locked on the black veins running up Scott’s wrist. Scott lets go and waggles his hand in front of his face, black veins vanishing instantly. Isaac smiles and kisses the tip of his nose, and Scott knows he’s forgiven.

 

_Last night, you had a nightmare. Not a memory, just a nightmare. But you were crying, and you kept calling my name, and you kept saying, “You said no.”_

_And it’s true. I never wanted you to become this. I started to hope that I’d never meet you again – you, from that night in January – because I started to understand that if I did, then I’d lose you – you, from that morning with the coffee. I didn’t want you to have to go through what you did again, and when you opened your eyes and I saw you again, I was terrified._

_You’re you, you’ve always been you. It’s not you I didn’t want, it’s what happened to you._

_I used to wish I could take those memories away from you, so you wouldn’t hurt so much anymore. But those memories make you you – all of it is you. And I care about you. All of you. Just you. You._

_I wish I knew how to say this. This doesn’t make any damn sense._

 

Braeden waves at Scott from Deaton’s office when he shows up for work. He waves back and tries to push away the sinking feeling in his stomach. Braeden’s great. She gives Allison training tips and teaches Stiles, Isaac, and Boyd supernatural self-defense, and she’s always treated Scott as an equal and a leader, even when he was an awkward teenage beta.

Derek also hooks up with her whenever she’s in town, and Scott doesn’t know when that started to bum him out as much as it does now.

“Braeden’s back in town,” Scott says when Derek gets home, smelling warm and content.

“Yeah,” Derek says happily. “I met up with her for lunch. She’s going to be around for a while this time, I think.”

“Oh?” Scott says, aiming for neutral and missing by a mile. He stares down at his notebook and hopes Derek doesn’t call him out on it.

“Mm-hm.” Derek passes by the table, picking up Scott’s empty mug as he goes. “I think she wants to settle down.”

“Oh?” Scott says, glancing at Derek’s back in the kitchen. He hadn’t realized they were so serious. Then again, Stiles and Lydia live far apart, and they’re pretty serious…but there’s a difference between spending months apart and _years_. “That’s…good, right?”

“That’s _great_ ,” Derek says. He sets a fresh mug of tea in front of Scott and sits down with his own cup and a book. “She and Marin have been circling each other for years. I think now they might actually get serious about it.”

“Oh,” Scott says, heart thumping wildly. “But I thought…”

Derek quirks an eyebrow. “Braeden and I are very good friends,” he says slowly, stressing the last word. “That’s all we’ve ever been.”

“Oh.” He can feel his ears burning. “Sorry, I just always thought – that was rude of me, I shouldn’t have.”

“No, it’s fine,” Derek says. “I used to think Cora was – it’s not the same thing, it’s kind of the opposite, actually, but.” He shrugs. “There’s a difference between sex and romance, you know?”

“Yeah,” Scott says. “Yeah.”

After a few minutes of mostly non-awkward silence, Derek says, “I was thinking of adopting a dog. Would, uh.” He rubs the back of his neck. “What do you think?”

“Well, you know me, I love dogs,” Scott says. He shrugs, but starts mentally flipping through the dogs at the clinic. There’s a black lab that no one will adopt because it has burn scars on the side of its face, even though it’s just a puppy.

“But, uh,” Derek says. “Would you be okay with one,” he gestures awkwardly at the house as a whole. “Here?”

“It’s your house,” Scott says, confused.

“But you live here, too,” Derek says. “You pay half of the bills and everything. I don’t want – you get a say in this kind of stuff too, you know.”

“Oh,” Scott says. “Oh. Okay. Yeah, I think a dog would be great.”

“Cool,” Derek says. Scott is mildly horrified by how lame the word sounds coming out of his mouth. They’re getting _old_. “Wanna check out the clinic tomorrow? Or Monday, I mean, I know you work there, so I could just-”

Scott stops him with a hand over his. “Tomorrow sounds great.”

 

Derek picks the black lab and names him Basco. He insists on training him in Spanish, claiming that he wants them to practice their vocabulary. Scott suspects that it’s just so that Basco doesn’t listen to Stiles when he tries to command him. Derek doesn’t admit it, but he’s still miffed that Stiles somehow got Basco to answer to Firelord.

 

_When you kissed me on New Year’s, I wish I’d kissed you back._

 

Derek cradles Maria Turner gently in his arms and stares down at her in absolute wonder. “I still can’t believe I’m a godfather,” he says. “I never thought I’d be a godfather.”

“Really?” Scott swallows past the lump in his throat and tries to blink away Derek sitting cold and alone in the dark loft. He’s happier, less cracks held together and much more bright, much more whole, but the longing Scott sees on his face is just as devastating as before. “Why?”

He looks up, and the moment is broken. “Oh,” he says, tilting his head instead of shrugging and jostling Maria, “I figured Kenny’d never have kids, and he’d be the only person crazy enough to trust me with their offspring.”

“Well, you were half-right, so far,” Scott says. Basco sniffs at Maria’s head; she burbles happily and clutches at his snout with tiny hands. “Paige has always trusted you, though. And she’s a damn good judge of character, so I would trust her with who she trusts.”

“Language,” Derek chides with a soft smile.

“ _Darn_ good judge of character,” Scott corrects. “Hey, I’ve got an idea.” He tips Basco out of his lap and retrieves his guitar from his room. Derek quirks an eyebrow. “I bet her parents sing to her all the time, but I’m pretty awful at that, so…” He sits back down and tunes it briefly before playing. Maria coos when he starts, bouncing excitedly in Derek’s arms before settling down and staring at his fingers with big brown eyes. She’ll probably be a musical genius, just like her parents.

“That’s beautiful,” Derek says when he finishes. “What is it?”

“Uh, Romance Anónimo,” Scott says, clutching his guitar self-consciously. “It’s kind of the only Spanish piece I’m any good at.” Gabe’s been teaching him more, and dropping in tiny Spanish lessons along the way, but it’s slow going.

“Anonymous Romance,” Derek says thoughtfully. “There’s something kind of melancholy about it.”

“Yeah, I should probably learn happier songs for a baby,” Scott says. “But most of the stuff I know are just punk rock stuff.”

“Hey, that’s more than me,” Derek says with a scoff. “I can’t play anything at all.”

“Hey!” Scott bounces on the couch, putting his guitar aside. “I can teach you! Guitar’s really easy, man.”

Derek shakes his head. “I am the worst music student in the world,” he says. “Paige has been trying to teach me any instrument for the past decade. Gabe, too.”

“Well, maybe you need a different teacher,” Scott says. “I taught Ethan lacrosse, okay, and that shi – _stuff_ ,” he says quickly when Derek glares at him and clutches Maria closer, “was not easy. If I can teach Ethan non-werewolf lacrosse, and teach Jackson how to not kill him, then I can teach you guitar.”

Derek hesitates. “Come on,” Scott wheedles. He goes in for the kill. “Don’t you want Maria to be able to play songs with her Nino Derek?”

Derek’s face melts. “That was a low blow, Scott,” he says thickly, beaming down at Maria while she gnaws on his finger. “Nino Derek,” he repeats quietly.

“Still getting used to the sound of that?” Scott asks.

“I don’t know if I ever will,” he says. “I love it.”

Scott smiles. “It’s perfect.”

 

“You’re seriously going to teach Derek how to play guitar?” Gabe asks. “You do realize that my wife has been trying to teach him for the past-”

“-decade or so, yes, I know, I’ve heard the horror stories from Kira, too,” Scott says as he follows Gabe to the guitar section of his shop. According to Kira, Derek has no sense of rhythm. Scott finds that hard to believe, since Kenny claims that Derek has mad skills on the dance floor. He’s had personal experience with Derek’s mad skills on the dance floor. His sense of rhythm is just fine.

“I’ve even tried to teach him,” Gabe says. “I teach people musical instruments for a living and I couldn’t teach him.” He crosses his arms and leans against the counter. “What makes you think you’ll be able to?”

Scott pulls a guitar down and inspects it. “Because I’m not going to take no for an answer,” he says. “Even if it takes another decade. I’m kind of hoping we’ll get there within five or six years, though; I figure that’s when Maria will start getting amazing at it herself.”

“Ohhhh,” Gabe says. “So this is for Maria, then.”

“Well, yeah,” Scott says. He puts the guitar back and pulls down another one. “Between you and Paige, music’s going to be a huge part of her life. I want Derek to be a part of that, too.”

“That’s really sweet of you, Scott,” Gabe says. “Seriously. That’s…that means a lot to us. All of us.”

“You all mean a lot to me,” Scott says with a shrug. He’s an alpha, and he has a responsibility for this land as long as he lives here. And beyond that, Paige’s family is hugely important to Derek. That’s more than enough reason for them to be just as important to Scott. He holds up the guitar. “How much to rent this?”

Gabe laughs. “If you’re seriously gonna teach Derek how to play that,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s yours.”

 

It doesn’t take Derek long to manage a decent C chord. Getting him to strum along to a metronome, or to Scott’s handclaps, or to Scott strumming next to him, though, is an entirely different matter. Scott tries to get him to tap his foot to the beat and only succeeds in making him look like he has leg spasms. “So this is that rhythm thing I’ve been hearing about,” he says.

“I’m sorry,” Derek says, clenching his fists. “I told you, I can’t do this-”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Scott sits next to him and puts a hand on his shoulder, and pretends not to notice when Derek leans into the touch. “It’s okay, we can figure this out. Um,” he looks around the room. “Okay, step one, breathe and relax. How about…” He snaps his fingers. “Your heart! Your heartbeat’s a rhythm, why don’t you try playing along with that?”

Derek makes a face. “I don’t like listening to my own heartbeat,” he says. “It just feels too…existential.”

“Okay, then listen to mine,” Scott says. He breathes deeply and slowly and stays as still as possible. “Listen to my heartbeat and play along with that.”

“Okay.” Derek moves his fingers back to the strings, carefully picking out the chord before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “Okay.”

He doesn’t know how long they stay there, Derek’s brow furrowed in concentration before gradually smoothing out as his limbs loosen and relax, just strumming along to Scott’s heartbeat. He watches his eyelashes flutter over his cheekbones in time with the beat, his head bobbing minutely and his fingers pressing firmly into the strings. Derek’s mouth twitches, and he picks up the pace. “Your heart’s beating faster,” he murmurs, a laugh bubbling in the back of his throat.

Scott ducks his head and tries to will away the flush spreading across his cheeks. “Sorry,” he says. “I’ll try to-”

Derek gives up playing and collapses over the guitar instead. “You’re just making it worse,” he says, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

“Sorry!” Scott says. It comes out closer to a squeak. His dignity is completely shot. “You were doing so well, too.”

“I was,” Derek agrees. “Until you messed it up.”

“Until I messed it up.” Derek crooks a finger under his chin and tugs; he looks up to see Derek’s face only inches away, bright eyes staring into his. He swallows, and the corner of Derek’s mouth quirks up as he undoubtedly hears his heart beat even faster. “Derek?”

Derek leans in and presses his lips to Scott’s. His eyes slide shut as he kisses back, hand sliding up Derek’s neck and winding into his hair. Derek sighs and tilts his head as Scott teases his lips apart, sliding their tongues together.

The guitar clangs between them. Derek breaks away with a laugh. “Shit, sorry,” Scott gasps, pulling his knee back. “I’ll just-”

“I got it,” Derek says, cutting him off with a quick kiss. He moves and carefully places the guitar in its stand, then climbs back onto the bed and into Scott’s lap. “Now, where were we?”

 

_I think you loved him. The other me._

_I think you still love him. And I think you’re still looking for him in me._

_But I’m not him._

_I –_

_I’m not him._

 

He’s different, but he looks the same. When Scott trails his fingertips down his chest and teases with the hem of his underwear, he gasps and arches into his touch the same. The planes of his back, his triskele shifting over twitching muscles – that’s the same. The way he sighs and tilts his head to the left as Scott kisses down his throat, moaning and gripping Scott’s hair tight as he bites at the juncture between neck and shoulder – the same.

He loves Scott’s ears. Sucking on the lobe, tracing the curves with his tongue, even just running his lips over the edge of the shell. That’s new. He tries not to think about why that’s so different, when so many other things are the same. Instead, he learns that Derek loves when Scott uses his alpha strength to pin him down, when he bites his skin hard enough to draw blood, and when he presses kisses to the tips of his ears.

Derek looks at him sometimes, biting off questions and burying his words deep in his throat, shaking himself and tucking his head under Scott’s chin to sleep. He smells content, usually, but sometimes Scott catches a spike of hurt or dismay and turns a little too late to see Derek school his expression into something more neutral. He’s seen Derek closed-off before – that’s all Derek was, before, and that dull and guarded face haunts him as badly as anything – but he’d never known that he could shut down while he smiles at Scott so openly. The dismay changes to sadness, and to…he doesn’t know the scent, it’s completely foreign to him, but he thinks it might be heartbreak.

He spends January’s full moon in the abandoned loft on the edge of the town that no one uses and no one has ever lived in. He paces the floor where none of them ever bled and broke and died. “This is the end,” he says, voice echoing off broken walls and glass windows that were never marked. Danny threw a blacklight rave downtown their junior year; Kira painted a fox on Scott’s collarbone and he painted a wolf on her cheek and Noshiko still has all her tails. “This is it. It’s over. It’s been over. It’s always been over. It’s-” He runs his hands through his hair, curling over his ears. He’d stopped cutting it a while ago, after he’d come back and woken up. He wonders if that was why Stiles had started growing his out, too.

“You’re gone. You’re all gone. I’m never going to see any of you again, but we made that choice, because they-” He points out the window, to the moon and to Beacon Hills and to Allison, Boyd, Erica, Aiden, Talia, Paige, Malia, Lydia, Isaac, _Stiles_ , “-they’re all here, and they’re happy, and they’re alive and they’re not broken the way we were. We gave ourselves up so that they could have that, and I know none of us regret it.”

He sinks to his knees. There was never a table there, there was never a sofa over there or a bed here. This dusty place has always been bare. “So this is goodbye,” he says, through trembling lips as tears spill down his cheeks. “I can never forget you, but I have to let you go. I didn’t mean to come here, but I did, and I – I owe it to me, because I grew up here, too, and I owe it to all of you, because you did this for me, too. I can’t keep seeing your ghosts. I’m choosing them over you, because we all chose them first.

“I love you, Derek,” he says. “I’ll always love you. But I gave you up. And you told me to go, you let me go, so I have to let you go, too. Because _he_ loves me, and I love him, and I’ve always loved him, and I want him to be happy.” He drops his head. “I want to make him happy, if I can. If it isn’t too late. If I didn’t mess it all up too much.”

The sun peers over the horizon as he paces the loft one more time – one last time. Light glints something metallic in the corner, and he frowns. That’s not right. This place is just brick and concrete, there isn’t anything else here. There shouldn’t be anything else here. He pulls a box out from under the stairs, metal painted black with a combination lock. The stairs and floor are covered in dust, but box is practically pristine. He pulls out his Samsung Galaxy S8 with shaking hands.

 **To:** Malia Tate, 7:42 am

could you please wake up cora for me? i need to ask her something. thanks

 **From:** Malia Tate, 7:43 am

fghhgffd

 **From:** Cora Hale, 7:45 am

WGAT

 **To:** Cora Hale, 7:45 am

if derek had a 5# lock, do you know what the combo might be?

 **From:** Cora Hale, 7:46 am

IT IS EARLY

 **From:** Cora Hale, 7:47 am

but in the name of big bro snooping i will help you

 **From:** Cora Hale, 7:47 am

you said its 5 numbers/

 **To:** Cora Hale, 7:47 am

yeah

 **From:** Cora Hale, 7:48 am

gimme a sec i need to find a phone

 **From:** Cora Hale, 7:49 am

THIS IS A PHONE IM SO SMART

 **From:** Cora Hale, 7:49 am

its early ok shut up

 **From:** Cora Hale, 7:50 am

72688

The lock clicks open. Scott breathes in relief, then his stomach churns. It worked, which means the lock is Derek’s, which means whatever is in there is something Derek wanted to hide from everyone. Maybe even from him.

 **To:** Cora Hale, 7:51 am

it worked, thanks

 **To:** Cora Hale, 7:51 am

howd you guess it so quickly?

 **From:** Cora Hale, 7:52 am

no prob. and its easy to guess bc dereks super obvious

 **From:** Cora Hale, 7:52 am

ill give you a hint: the nmbuers are letters, scott

 **From:** Cora Hale, 7:53 am

m going to slep now k nightnight alpacalpha

 **To:** Cora Hale, 7:53 am

thanks, cora

The numbers are letters. He puts aside that mystery for the moment, and lifts the lid on the box. There’s a notebook inside, just small enough to fit into a pocket. He picks it up carefully, takes a deep breath, and opens the cover.

There are no dates, not on the inside cover or any of the pages. The first page is even blank. But the second page, and third, fourth, fifth pages are filled with _“I’m sorry,”_ written over and over in Derek’s handwriting. Tiny and cramped, as if the apology doesn’t even feel worthy of offering; large and in all capitals stretching end to end across the page, as if it can’t be said loudly enough; wobbly and shaking; painstakingly neat cursive; viciously straight lines; pen pressed deep into the paper and tearing straight through. Pages upon pages, front and back, covered in desperate apologies. “I’m sorry,” in black, blue, red, green ink, smudgy pencil and even bright highlighter, whatever was close at hand over an increasingly long period of time. There are smears, ink smudging and the notebook lines themselves running from drops of liquid. The words change into a full sentence after half a centimeter of apologies, and Scott’s heart seizes in his chest. _“I let you down.”_

“No,” he whispers, and understands, for the first time, just what Derek had meant when he’d woken up on that table four years ago. “No, Derek, god, no.”

 

Derek shuts the front door and walks through the house to the dining room. “Hey, Sco-” His greeting dies as his eyes land on the metal box, opened lock, and notebook resting on top. He swallows heavily. “Scott…”

“I read it,” Scott says. “Everything. I don’t know if you wanted me to, but my name was the password, so.”

Derek sits down slowly, eyes still on the notebook. “I wanted you to read it,” he says finally. “But at the same time, I really didn’t. It’s – I wanted to know, I wanted answers, but it’s really not my place to ask.”

“I got you involved in this,” Scott says. “You didn’t get to choose. I forced you into this against your will. You have every right to ask.”

“Scott.” Derek shakes his head. “You didn’t force me to do anything. All you did was talk to me for a couple of hours when I was a dumb teenager. And I don’t know how much that changed, but everything I did after that was my own choice. At no point did you force my hand or manipulate me into doing something I didn’t want. So no, I don’t have any right. Scott, you can tell me anything you want to talk about, but I’m not going to force answers out of you.”

The chair scrapes against the floor as he abruptly stands and leaves the room. Scott doesn’t watch him go, just stares blindly at the notebook as he hears Derek settle down in the study, tapping away at his laptop and flipping through one of his binders. He doesn’t move, not until the lights in the house dim and Derek rests a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, Scott,” he says quietly. “Let’s go to bed.”

He lets Derek pull him to his feet and push him in the direction of the bedroom. He pulls his clothes off mechanically, leaves them in a heap on the floor, and crawls under the covers while Derek washes up in the bathroom. He’ll put the clothes away in the morning. Derek probably won’t mind, not for just one night. He’ll be better in the morning.

Derek turns off the bathroom light and slips under the covers, curling his body around Scott’s and pressing a kiss to the base of his neck. Scott winds their fingers together. “I,” he says hesitantly, “I don’t know if I can-”

Derek shakes his head; Scott feels his stubble scrape across his back. “Don’t worry about me,” he says. “You’re always worrying about everyone else but yourself.”

“Do you want to know?” He can’t stand to see despair lingering behind Derek’s smile, its scent cloying and sickly-sweet. He can’t stand that, after everything they’ve been through, he’s the one making Derek like that all over again. “If you want to know, I’ll tell you.”

“Scott,” Derek says with a sigh. “That’s not-”

He rolls over and stares firmly into his eyes. “Answer the question, Derek.”

Derek meets his gaze and places Scott’s hand deliberately over his heart. “I want to know that you’re happy,” he says, voice as steady as his heartbeat. “I want to know that you’re okay. That’s all that I want to know.”

Scott pulls hand away and tries not to shrink in on himself. “I am,” he says. “I really am, Derek.”

Derek doesn’t even try to hide the sadness from his smile, and Scott’s gut roils. “You’ve always been a terrible liar, Scott.”

 

He says, “I love you,” and Derek breaks.

Scott watches, horrified, as his face crumples and he physically recoils from him. “Don’t,” he says desperately. “Please don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Scott asks. “Don’t tell you I l-”

“You don’t!” Derek spits, clenching the back of the chair like a lifeline. “You don’t love me, Scott. You love _him_. And I may look like him, I may sound like him, I may even act like him, but I’m not him. And he’s the one you love, we both know it.”

“Derek,” Scott says. He steps towards him, but Derek just shakes his head and backs away. “Derek, that’s not true.”

“I see the way you look at me, Scott,” he says. “You look at me and you see him. You’re always looking for him.”

He’s right. Scott sees him all the time, when the corners of Derek’s mouth turn down or the doors slam shut behind his eyes. He sees him when Derek turns away, when his body tenses like a coil ready to spring, ready to lash out, ready to break away. And when Derek smiles, open and unguarded, when the corners of his eyes crinkle and when he smothers friends or family in a hug, he sees who he could have been. He sees who he was supposed to be. He sees _Derek_.

But that’s not fair to Derek. “I,” Scott says. “I’m sorry. I’ve been trying, I didn’t mean to…” Derek doesn’t see Scott seeing him. He just sees Scott looking through him, like that memory’s the real one and Derek’s the ghost. “I’m sorry, Derek,” he says. “I keep messing everything up. I’m sorry. I can…” He can’t explain, not without telling Derek everything about the other past, not without showing Derek everything he’s been trying to keep him safe from. He looks up helplessly. “I don’t have an explanation. I’m sorry.”

Derek shakes his head. “I have to go,” he says. He backs away to the front door and grabs the nearest jacket. He swings the worn denim on, blindly shoving arms through the flag-patched sleeves. “I have to – I have to go.” The door opens and slams shut. Scott stands, trembling, in an empty house that isn’t his.

None of this is his.

 

Scott grabs Derek and hauls him up by the back of his neck like a dog, squeezing tight and forcing his jaws apart while Gerard places his arm between them. He has to, he has to do this, the only way he can beat Gerard is if Gerard thinks he’s won. Derek will understand. He has to understand. Scott doesn’t have a choice.

(He had a choice, of course he did. He could have told Derek that he would have to use his own body and his entire existence against him. He could have warned him instead of letting him tumble headfirst into horror. Derek deserved to be warned.

But he couldn’t trust Derek. Derek didn’t trust him. Derek didn’t trust anyone, Derek didn’t listen to anyone, and Scott didn’t listen to Derek. No one listened to anyone, that’s how they all got here in the first place, wasn’t it? And here he is, taking his turn in the sick cycle instead of breaking it once and for all.)

He can’t meet Derek’s eyes in his supposed moment of triumph, as Gerard bleeds black and crumples to the floor and he reveals his master plan. Yeah, what a great master plan. Ask Deaton for help to poison an old man. Is this what power feels like? Murdering before you get murdered?

And worst of all is Derek’s face, watching Scott. He doesn’t look betrayed; he doesn’t even look surprised. He just watches him in tired resignation. Of course Scott was going to betray him, his eyes say. Of course he was going to use him. It’s the tiny stab of pain in his eyes that turns Scott’s head away, that makes him flinch from Derek’s gaze. It’s the tiny stab that tells him, that even though Derek had known Scott would abandon him just like everyone else, he’d hoped that he wouldn’t.

And Scott let him down.

He wakes up screaming, sobbing, reaching blindly for Derek as he fades in front of his eyes. He thrashes off the couch and lands heavily on the floor, shrinking away from blinding lights and claws skittering on lacquered wood. He gropes for his phone and dials with shaking fingers, curling tight in on himself and trying to gasp for air. He can’t find his inhaler, he needs his inhaler. He hasn’t had an asthma attack in over six years, but he can’t breathe, he can’t…

 _“Scott?”_ Stiles asks sleepily. _“’s late, man, what’s going on? Where’s Derek?”_

“Stiles,” Scott gasps, forcing air into his lungs. Stiles is here. He’s okay. Basco whines and licks at his face. “How was your day? Sorry, this is a bad time, I just-”

 _“Hey, hey, Scott, it’s okay,”_ Stiles says, sounding more awake now. _“Talk to me, man, tell me what’s going on.”_

“I just-” He inhales shakily through his nose. “Can you talk to me? I just – tell me about today. Yesterday. I don’t know. Something recent.” _Something that wasn’t that other past_ , he doesn’t say. He buries his face in Basco’s scruff. _Tell me that I’m here. Tell me that I didn’t ruin everything._

 _“Okay, well, uh – oh! Lydia called today,”_ Stiles says, voice brightening the way it always does when he thinks about Lydia. He hears feet padding across the floor, another door opening and someone’s sleepy protests. _“She even got Jackson to say hi, but I think that was more because he wanted to see Danny. You know, I don’t think we give him enough credit, Scott. Or, well, you give him plenty of credit, I don’t give him enough credit. He’s really gotten better. I mean, don’t get me wrong, he’s still an asshole, but he’s a nicer asshole. I’m going to stop talking about nice assholes, Scott, that’s just going to lead me down a weird spiral of mental images.”_ Scott chokes out a laugh, and he can feel the smile spreading across Stiles’ face. It’s probably small, probably wobbly, probably worried, but at least not as much as before.

He clutches his knees tighter to his chest. He wishes he wasn’t such a burden to his friends. He’s about to tell Stiles thanks, hang up and let him sleep, but Stiles plunges straight into the silence before it can start to grow. _“And – I had lunch with you today, remember, we went to that new falafel place Kira told us about? It had really good hummus, but I wasn’t really sold on the veggie wrap. I guess I’m just a carnivore like that. What’d you think, though?”_

“I liked it,” Scott says. He didn’t even notice his breathing going back to normal. He loosens his grip on his knees a little and reaches out to pet Basco’s head. “It’s different, you know, I think it just takes some getting used to. I don’t think I can eat lamb, though.”

 _“Of course you wouldn’t,”_ Stiles says. _“Do you remember how hard you cried when my mom told you what veal was? She apologized to Melissa for a week straight, you were so traumatized. They started taking us to volunteer at Deaton’s and you just sat on the floor with the puppies and cried. I think that’s why Deaton judges us so much now, you know, because the first time he met Mr. True Alpha he was clutching a puppy as big as he was and crying about baby cows.”_

That reminds him, “Cora sent me a picture of her with a baby cow the other day. Did you get that, too?”

 _“Do you mean the one of her, Erica, and Malia each holding a calf in their graduation robes?”_ Stiles asks dryly. _“I thought their mascot was a horse or whatever. Aggies, whatever that is. I’m glad ours is mostly normal, at least. Y’know, at least we’re not an anteater or a, a freaking banana slug, you know. Don’t tell Darren or Eric I said that, they’ll beat my ass. But anyway, man, we need to take a fun picture in our grad robes. Jackson climbed a freaking redwood tree in his. I don’t care if he’s a supernatural creature of the night – you know, when I say it like that it kind of makes him sound like a spooky prostitute.”_ Basco springs to his feet, tail wagging, and noses at Scott. _“Like a succubus! Or an incubus, I guess, since he’s a guy. Wait, does gender really matter with succubi or incubi? What if that’s just our gender-normative society, and they’re all just genderfluid? I mean, I’ve never met one, so I wouldn’t really know, but-”_

A hand reaches down and plucks the Samsung Galaxy S8 out of Scott’s grip. “Stiles,” Derek says. “Go the fuck to sleep.”

 _“Yeah, okay, Samuel L. Jackson-”_ Scott hears before Derek ends the call. Basco yips happily and climbs on top of Scott to lick Derek’s face. “ _Échate_ , Basco.”

He hadn’t sensed Derek at all. He hadn’t heard him come in, or smelled his scent, or anything. He hasn’t been this completely unaware since…since he was still an asthmatic human. “I’m sorry,” he says immediately. “I-”

Derek holds up a hand. “Don’t,” he begins, then, “Shit. Wait. I’m not supposed to talk over you again, I’m supposed to listen.”

Scott quirks an eyebrow. “Have you been talking to Lydia?”

“We’re getting off topic,” Derek says. Basco lays down between them, chin resting on his paws and looking between them with big eyes. He sways into Scott’s touch when he scratches behind his ears. “Go ahead.”

“Right,” Scott says. He takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry. And you’re right.” Derek flinches before he steels himself, before impassivity washes over his face, and, “Sometimes I look at you and I see him, because I’m terrified you might end up like him.” He doesn’t add, _because of me_ , because he’s not that brave. “He wasn’t bad, he was just…he was so strong, Derek, just like you. But he’d been through a lot, and he, he got really hurt. And I don’t want that to happen to you, so sometimes I…”

Derek reaches forward and pulls his fingers away from where he’d been digging them into the back of his hand. Scott blinks at the tiny cuts his claws leave behind. He hadn’t noticed. “Sometimes I look for him, just to make sure he isn’t there,” he says, and shakes his head. “And I should have realized how unfair that is to you, and I can’t even expect you to know any of that, or understand, I should’ve known better. I’m sorry,” he says lamely, chancing a glance up at Derek.

He doesn’t look sad, not quite. Hurt, but different, somehow. “I do understand,” he says. “I…” He runs a hand through his hair, staring down at Basco. “I met you when you were eighteen, right? And then I met you when you were fifteen. And you seemed like two completely different people. I thought it was impossible that you could ever be like…” His brows crease. “…you. Because you are the same person, and I understand how that works now, but back then, I didn’t get it, and the older you got, the older I got, and the more I realized how terrible things must have been for you to even want to try what you did. And I wanted nothing more than to just hide you away from all of it so you could never end up becoming you.”

He takes Scott’s hand and runs his fingers over the already-healed cuts. “It’s not quite the same, but I understand. I overreacted, I _really_ overreacted, and I can’t tell you how you feel. I’m sorry.” He clasps Scott’s hands between his own and presses his lips to the unbroken skin. “I’m sorry for everything, Scott.”

Scott thinks of the pages and pages of apologies in Derek’s notebook and his own deep-seated guilt. “I think we’ve apologized to each other enough for a lifetime,” he says. He quirks the side of his mouth. “Well, about this, anyway. I’m still not apologizing for buying pulpy orange juice.”

Derek ducks his head as a small smile forms on his face. “The little strings get caught in my teeth.”

“Your adorable bunny teeth?” Scott teases. He leans in and kisses the corner of Derek’s mouth as his smile grows. Basco jumps out of the way and into Derek’s lap for safety. “C’mon, let’s see ‘em. Let’s see your cute little bunny teeth.”

Derek rolls his eyes and bites his lip against his smile, which only make his bunny teeth even more bunny-like. “I hate you,” he says, laugh bubbling in his throat and smiling in spite of himself.

“No, you don’t,” Scott says, leaning in to kiss his bunny teeth. Derek catches his lips instead, trading soft kisses back and forth. “No, I don’t,” he agrees.

Scott smiles. “I-” he begins, then stops. They’re okay, but nothing’s resolved. They’re still looking over each other’s shoulders for ghosts. It’s just Scott’s bad – or better? – luck that his came along with him, and that he knows both of Derek’s so well.

He loves Derek, this Derek, _his_ Derek, but Derek won’t believe him. Derek can’t believe him, and Scott still sees the doors lurking far behind his eyes, just waiting to rush forward and slam shut. “Thank you,” he says instead.

Derek tilts his head. “For what?” he asks, confused.

He lifts Basco out of the way and snuggles closer, tucking his head over Derek’s heart. “For everything.”

 

_I think I’m in love with you._

_No_

_I know I’m in love with you._

_I love you._

_All of you._

_I love you._

 

He steps into the study, nearly turns around and walks right back out, then quickly walks forward and lays the notebook on the edge of the desk before he can lose his nerve. It’s the right choice. It’s not fair, but nothing about this is fair. Derek picks up the notebook, frowning quizzically. “What’s this?”

“I wrote it before I left,” Scott says. “I thought I might forget, and I wanted to keep it all somewhere, even if it wasn’t in my own head anymore. It’s, uh.” He coughs. “It’s everything about him and me. Everything that mattered.”

Derek spins around in his chair. “Scott,” he says, shocked. “That’s…that’s personal. I can’t-”

“I wanted to give you the choice,” he says. “If you wanted to know.”

He stares at him, clutching the notebook in his hand. “Are you sure about this, Scott?” he asks.

Scott nods firmly. “Very sure,” he says. “More sure than anything else. Besides,” he adds, “I trust you.”

It’s not “I love you,” but it’s close enough. He watches with bated breath as the doors behind Derek’s eyes wobble, swing dangerously close to each other, and finally fall away. Derek blinks rapidly and looks away. “I trust you, too.”

 

He doesn’t see Derek read it. He sees it next to him practically everywhere for a week, next to his mug in the study, inside his bag on his way to work, even tucked into his pocket a few times while running errands or going out. After a fortnight, it doesn’t seem to be as glued to him as before, but Scott still notices it out of the corner of his eye more often than not. He sees Derek pick it up, stare at the cover, and thumb the edges of the pages, but he doesn’t see him actually open it and read. Not when Scott’s nearby.

After a month, Derek gives it back to him. “I’m done with it,” he says.

“Are you sure?” Scott asks. “You can keep it. That’s why I gave it to you.”

“I’m sure,” Derek says with a firm nod.

Scott puts it in the metal box with Derek’s notebook. He doesn’t reset the lock – not that he knows how to in the first place – but he doesn’t think either of them will be opening it for a while, anyway.

(He doesn’t open the notebook before he locks it away, so he doesn’t see the scrap of paper taped to the inside of the back cover, “I didn’t read it,” in Derek’s neat handwriting.)

 

He gets a new notebook and starts writing everything about him and Derek, everything that matters. There’s a lot that matters, it turns out. The pages fill up far beyond the scope of that other notebook, and for a moment he lets himself wonder if they could have gotten to this point in the other past, if he cut short something that still wanted to grow. Then he looks at the pictures on the walls – Cora and Erica lifting Boyd over their heads; Allison sitting on Derek’s shoulders as they both flex for the camera with stupid grins on their faces; Talia and Laura and baby Isabel – and he knows he made the right choice.

He tears the pages out of the notebook and leaves them places Derek will find them. He never wants to forget these memories, either, but they don’t need to be hidden away. He tapes their first meeting to the coffee machine, folds their first (disastrous) kiss in Derek’s left running shoe, and tucks their second (much better) kiss under the strings of his guitar.

He gets to the bottom of the bag of coffee and finds their first meeting again, Derek’s writing on the other side.

He leans over the back of Derek’s chair, wrapping his arms around his chest and nuzzling into his cheek. “You thought my hair was stupid?”

“The stupidest,” Derek says solemnly, and tilts his head up for a kiss.

 

Stiles takes a plate out of the cupboard and blinks down at it for several seconds. “Dude,” he says finally. “Do I want to know?”

“Huh?” Scott looks up as Stiles tilts the plate towards him, a note with _omelette du fromage_ in Derek’s loopiest cursive taped to it. He clutches the countertop as his knees buckle, eventually giving up and collapsing to the floor in laughter. Basco runs over, sliding comically on the tile, and noses at him in concern. “It’s,” he tries, but can’t catch his breath long enough to explain.

Stiles raises an eyebrow. “Part of me is desperately curious, but the other, louder part of me is thinking that I don’t really want to know.”

“Never-” Scott clutches his stomach and tries to keep it from spasming, “never say that in bed.”

It’s a testament to their friendship that Stiles doesn’t bat an eye at the bulge in Scott’s pants. He does, however, gingerly set the plate down as far away from his as possible. “Yep, _really_ don’t want to know.”

“Dude, relax, the plate wasn’t involved.”

“Thank you, Scott, that’s very comforting. You know, why don’t we – well, you should probably take care of yourself first,” he says, gesturing at Scott’s crotch, “And then why don’t we go out for lunch instead of here before I hold your hand while you get your dumb hair cut?”

“It’s not dumb,” Scott says, running his hands through his hair self-consciously. It’s really gotten long.

“No, you’ve got great hair,” Stiles says loyally. “But I’m glad you’re getting it cut. Your head’ll feel lighter, and stuff.”

He holds his hand while Scott gets his hair cut. His head does, in fact, feel lighter. Everything feels lighter. “I look like me again,” Scott says, flipping down the mirror in Stiles’ Jeep.

“You always looked like you,” Stiles scoffs. He looks over with a soft smile. “But you look happier, now.”

“I am happier, now,” he says. Stiles can’t hear his heartbeat, but he knows him well enough to know that he’s telling the truth.

 

“Scott,” Lydia says, pouting ever-so-slightly, “This is supposed to be a _couples_ activity.” She taps her fingers on her left hip, partly because she’s annoyed with him and mostly because she wants to show off her engagement ring. It’s elegant and very sparkly and she hasn’t let any of them forget about it for the past three months.

Scott smiles at it appreciatively, and her pout fades. He gingerly inspects a weirdly shaped teapot and a margarita glass. He feels like ceramic margarita glasses aren’t really a good idea, but maybe that’s because he’s still not used to being out of college. “Yeah, well, Derek had a family emergency, so he couldn’t make it.”

Everyone except Scott turns to glare at Isaac. “Well, obviously, it’s not _that_ big of a family emergency,” Isaac says, holding his hands up defensively. “He’s just talking Boyd down from a roof, no big deal.”

“A roof?” Kira repeats, eyes as wide as the saucer in her hands. “Like, an actual roof? How is that not a big deal?”

“Pre-wedding jitters,” Scott says. “Probably realized he’s going to have to dance in front of a bunch of werewolves or something.”

“Yeah, Derek’s a great dancer, remember, Scott?” Isaac says, nudging him with an elbow and nearly making him drop a ceramic cupcake. “Ew, you’re making a cupcake?”

“What’s wrong with cupcakes?” Allison demands.

“See, this is exactly why this was supposed to be a _couples_ activity,” Lydia says.

“I kissed Scott once, that totally counts,” Isaac says as he browses the shelves. “Besides, I don’t really see what’s romantic about painting pottery.”

“You don’t really see what’s romantic about anything, Isaac,” Stiles says.

“Well, yeah,” Isaac says. “But when was the last time a movie had a romantic pottery date? Never.”

“Dude,” Stiles says. “ _Ghost_.”

“Oh shit, good point,” Isaac says. He looks at the other side of the room. “Ooh, they have animals!”

Lydia sighs. “One of these days, Derek isn’t going to be able to wiggle out of a group date,” she tells Scott. “I bet Boyd isn’t even really freaking out.”

“How can you tell when he is?” Kira asks.

“He blinks a lot,” Lydia says. “And sometimes, when he’s really stressed, he taps his fingers.” She shudders. “Junior year. So many all-nighters. Scott, have you figured out what you want to paint?”

He puts the plate back and frowns at the shelves. “I don’t know. What are you doing?”

Stiles wiggles a pair of interlocking salt and pepper shakers. “And Allison and Kira are doing matching cups and saucers.”

“Wow,” Isaac says, reappearing with an armful of small wolf figurines. “That is sickeningly adorable.”

Lydia eyes the wolves. “And you’re doing…”

“Boyd, Erica, and Cora!” Isaac says. “Boyd’s the malamute.”

Allison smirks. “Now _that_ is sickeningly adorable.”

“Well, this is a _couples_ activity, isn’t it?” Isaac says, smirking at Lydia. “I’m just making one for a trio, instead. Scott, hurry up and pick something sickeningly adorable for Derek.”

He finally settles on a coffee tumbler, since Derek is ridiculously addicted to coffee. He paints the handle like the spine of a book and gets Isaac to help him paint the walls like yellowing pages, with wolves, foxes, archers, magic, and music leaping from the words. “Jeez, Scott,” he says, tongue between his teeth as he sketches onto the tumbler for him. “I knew you were a total gooey love marshmallow, but this is _seriously_ gooey.”

“Gooey love marshmallow?” Stiles repeats.

“Shut up.”

“Hey, I’m not judging. I’m just mentally filing it away to use against you when you least expect it.”

“Besides, you’re the one making tiny porcelain animals of your new family members,” Lydia says. “You can’t exactly talk.”

“I’d probably go with superhero action figures,” Kira says thoughtfully. Stiles reaches over to high-five her.

Isaac, meanwhile, tilts the tumbler down so Lydia can see the inside. “He wrote ‘I Love You’ on the bottom.”

“Wow.” Lydia sits back. “That _is_ gooey.”

“Well, I think it’s sweet,” Allison says. “It’s like a secret little message that only you get to see. And really, the design is great, Scott.”

“Thanks,” Scott says, ducking his head down and focusing on painting the lid. It really is a secret message. The tumbler has a cover, so Derek will probably never look at the bottom when he tries to drink the last sips of coffee. He’ll probably never see it. But Scott will know it’s there, so it’s almost like telling him. Telling him without actually telling him.

 

By the time he gives Derek the tumbler, he’s already forgotten about the message at the bottom.

 

Cora, Boyd, and Erica leave on their honeymoon in South America after the wedding, and Talia deals with a suddenly empty nest by taking the rest of the pack to visit Laura for a week or two. Scott and Allison look after the territory in her absence – and no one from the Bacari pack or anyone else drops by for a convenient “visit” – so Kira, Stiles, Lydia, and Malia stay in Beacon Hills as well. Derek texts him constantly, pictures of Laura with Isabel and Maria, or Isaac doing something stupid, or Belladonna actually smiling, or Darren sitting on Jackson’s head, or just a simple “wish you were here.”

They can’t venture too far from town – well, most of them can, but it’s a pretty big deal that Talia trusts Scott and Allison without a babysitter, so the others help them as much as they can. Mostly, their idea of helping seems to consist of picnics in the Preserve.

Lydia sits primly next to Scott and watches the others engage in a probably ill-advised chickenfight. At least Kira and Malia can catch the humans before they fall, probably. “So, how did you power the spell?” she asks.

Scott freezes. “What spell?” he asks in what he hopes is an innocent enough voice.

Lydia rolls her eyes. “All of high school _and_ undergrad and you still can’t lie to save your life,” she says. “I’d ask how you expect to be an effective diplomat, but the other alphas seem to respect your honesty, so.”

“I’ll still bring you along to all the negotiations,” Scott says.

“Of course you will,” Lydia says. “But seriously, Scott. The spell. How’d you power it? And don’t worry,” she adds before Scott can glance at the others. “They can’t hear us.”

“I still don’t know what spell you’re talking about,” he says carefully.

“Stop playing dumb, Scott. I’ve translated every ancient language book in Derek’s library. If you found the spell once – and I’m guessing me or Stiles found it, not you – did you really think I wouldn’t find it again?”

Scott hesitates. Lydia purses her lips and cocks an eyebrow, and he gives up. “When’d you figure it out?”

“Couple years ago, when Derek sent me the book,” she says. “Me and Gabe combed through that section before, he must have hidden it for a while. Probably knew it hit a little too close to home. Don’t worry, I don’t want to know the details,” she adds. “Figuring out the spell’s mechanism, you kinda get a feel for how desperate the traveler must be.”

“Well,” Scott says. “We were.”

Lydia nods. “That’s why I don’t want to know,” she says. “But I just have to ask, for research’s sake. How’d you manage to go ten years back? The spell’s a giant power drain. It must have taken…”

“All of us,” Scott says. All of us left, he doesn’t add, but judging by Lydia’s tight-lipped nod, she’d already guessed. “Her tails,” he adds, for research’s sake. “She was young, so they hadn’t grown yet. That potential-”

“-became a huge power reserve,” Lydia finishes. She looks over to Kira, laughing with Allison on her shoulders. She can’t see her the way Scott can, glowing bright with her fox guarding her, but Lydia can probably sense her power, far beyond the scope of their lifetimes. “Academically, that’s so fascinating, but knowing that-” She breaks off and looks down, dabbing discreetly at an eye.

“You should put it in the notes,” Scott says. “For research’s sake.”

“Yeah,” Lydia snorts, eyes dry again. “I noticed some of the stuff you added. ‘Change the body of the host,’ really?”

“Hey, I gave a detailed example,” Scott says. “That was helpful.”

“Oh yeah, it sure was,” she says. “‘Alternatively, summon Oni. They’re effective in executing the nogitsune, except for when they’re not?’ What does that even mean? Boyd actually laughed when he read that one.”

“I just wrote what I knew,” Scott says. “If it doesn’t make sense, that’s why I’m not the researcher.”

“Yeah, the alpha’s not really meant to be the researcher,” Lydia says. “The person who gathers all the knowledge isn’t always in the best mindset to call the shots.”

“Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw,” Scott says. “Different sets of priorities.”

“Exactly.”

“But, I mean.” Scott frowns. “Derek’s kind of the researcher in his family, I think-”

“He’s a librarian, Scott, there is no ‘kind of’ about it.”

“-but he’s going to be alpha,” he continues. “So, it could work, sometimes.”

“From what I’ve gathered about werewolf culture, not so much,” Lydia says. “He was groomed to be a beta, you know, Laura was supposed to head up the pack. He might not want to take on that role.”

“Does he really get a say in the matter, though?” Scott asks. “It’ll just automatically pass to him when Talia dies, since he’s a direct descendent.”

Lydia looks at him like he’s crazy. Maybe he should pay more attention to those culture lessons Talia keeps pushing on him. “Of course he gets a say. There’s plenty of others in the pack, and it’s really up to Talia when she steps down.” She rubs his arm gently. “I know it didn’t start out that way for you, but werewolf culture is all about choice.”

“Oh,” he says faintly. “Good to know.”

She nods. “And you know, Boyd knows about the spell, too. I mean, pretty much everyone has a general idea of what happened to you, but I think Stiles and them are thinking more along the lines of inherited memories, not actual time travel. But the point is,” she grabs his chin and forces him to meet her stare. “We all understand, and some of us know enough that you can talk to us about it. I’m glad that you can rely on Derek for that, but you don’t have to hide yourself from the rest of us, either.”

“I know.”

“No you didn’t,” she says. “And don’t apologize.”

“Okay, no, I didn’t know,” Scott says. He really didn’t. “I’m sor…” he catches himself at the last minute and winces as Lydia rolls her eyes. “…ry?”

“You’ve got a big heart, Scott, but sometimes it’s really too big for its own good,” she says. She looks over Scott’s shoulder, and her eyes widen. “No!” she squeaks.

Allison launches herself at Lydia and tackles her to the ground. “Sweaty hugs!”

“Allison, you’re so gross!” Lydia squawks from somewhere underneath Allison’s armpit. “Scott, I demand you defend my honor!”

Allison stretches on top of Lydia’s struggling form and arches an eyebrow at him. “You really wanna go, Delgado?” They lock eyes long enough for Kira to sneak one of her boots off, then Scott dives for her foot. “No fair!” she shrieks, falling off Lydia as he digs his fingers into her sole.

“Allison!” Stiles yells, clutching his heart dramatically while Malia walks them closer. “You will be avenged! I will get the Avengers and you will be avenged, Allison!” He dives off her shoulders and straight into them, jamming a knee into Scott’s chin and probably elbowing Allison herself in the face, and they collapse in a pile of limbs and giggles.

Kira manages to pull an arm free and, even more impressively, extract her Nokia Lumia from her pocket. “Photo op!”

“Noooo,” Lydia says. “My hair’s a mess now.”

“Aww, but we’re all together,” Allison says with a pout. “When are we all going to be together again?”

“Every day for the next two months?” Lydia points out, but sighs. No one can resist Allison’s pout, not even Jackson. “Fine. Flash on,” she says, twisting a lock of Kira’s hair across her lip for a foxfire mustache. Scott takes one of Malia’s clawed hands to make finger glasses around his eyes; Allison jams her finger up Stiles’ nose.

“Amazing,” Stiles says when they look at the picture. (It’s perfect. Scott’s going to frame his copy and put it on his nightstand.) “We’re actually adults with college diplomas and everything.”

 **From:** Karen Smith, 4:42 pm

I CAN FEEL U GUYS BONDING WITHOUT ME D: D: D:

 **From:** Karen Smith, 4:42 pm

also i stole dereks phone in case u were wondering why u werent getting ten texts an hour

 **To:** Karen Smith, 4:43 pm

dont worry isaac, were all wearing black and mourning you until your return

 **From:** Karen Smith, 4:43 pm

U BETTER BE ASSHOLES

 

Bucky Barnes stares at his own memorial, broken and confused and grasping for the barest spark of recognition in his mind, and the screen goes dark. Scott turns off the Blu-ray and turns to Allison, startled to see tears streaming silently down her face. “It’s not fair,” she says.

“Well, that’s the thing about Captain America,” Scott says, confused and more than a little worried. Cap’s films are her favorite, just like Scott’s, but they usually don’t bring her to tears like this. “None of what happened to him and especially to Bucky is fair, and there’s nothing that they can do about what’s happened. They just have to keep moving forward.”

“No, Scott, I mean _you_ ,” Allison says, turning to face him. “None of what happened to you is fair. You didn’t get to come back.”

“I – what?”

“Lydia told me,” she says. “She’s my best friend, Scott, you know we can’t hide anything from each other. We all got to come back, we all got clean starts, but you didn’t.” She wipes furiously at her eyes. “That’s not fair at all, and I know that nothing’s fair, really, but – it’s just not _fair_ , Scott. You gave up so much and you didn’t get anything back.”

“Hey, that’s not true,” Scott says. He tugs her close and tucks his chin over her shoulder. “We all gave up so much, we-” His throat closes. “We gave up every bit of ourselves. We did it together. One of us had to go back, and it had to be me.

“And I’m glad it was me,” he says, tightening his arms around her and breathing in her scent, reveling in the sweet steady beat of her heart. “I got so much back, Allison, you don’t know how much. I-” He buries his face in her hair as tears burn from his eyes. “Allison, I lost you. I lost all of you. You were all so broken, and I…But I got you all back, and we’re all okay-”

“But you’re not okay,” Allison says, drawing back and gripping his face. “Scott, you’re not okay, you’re still broken, and you shouldn’t _have_ to keep patching yourself together again. Wasn’t that the whole point, so you didn’t have to be like this anymore?”

He runs a steady hand down her cheek. “I never did this for me,” he says. “This was never about me. It was always about you.”

Her fingers tremble over his pulse. “Scott, you have to care about yourself, too. You can put yourself first sometimes. And you don’t have to – you don’t have to keep shielding us from these things. We can handle ourselves.”

“I know you can,” he says. He knows better than any of them just how much they can handle. “But there’s just…a lot of the stuff up here,” he gestures at his head, “none of you can understand. And I don’t want you to.”

She nods reluctantly. “What if…what if you could forget?” she asks. “What if there was a way to get rid of those memories so you could get that clean start?”

“I don’t want to forget.” It’s the first time he’s said it out loud, and now that he has, he realizes how true it is. “I don’t want to forget any of it. I don’t want to lose any of you again, and I don’t want to lose who I am. So,” he wraps his hand around hers, “This is me being selfish. I want to keep all of it.”

“Even the parts that hurt?”

“ _Especially_ the parts that hurt,” he says firmly.

 

_I think you love me._

_And –_

_You asked me once –_

_– and I know you weren’t exactly you, but, you asked me once –_

_– but that’s thing, isn’t it, you_ were _you and you_ did _ask me, even if we didn’t know the whole story yet –_

_You asked me if I would wait for you._

_For as long as you want me,_

_I’ll wait for you._

 

The doorbell rings. This in and of itself is suspicious, because everyone that Scott and Derek know have a set of keys (their moms), made a copy of their keys (Stiles, Lydia, and Kira), pick the lock to get in (Allison, Boyd, and Isaac), or climb through one of the unlocked windows on the second floor (everyone else). Scott wonders if some poor confused kid started trick-or-treating a day early, but opens the door to see – “Coach?”

“Evening, Delgado,” Coach says, wandering into the house and dropping down onto the couch. “Nice place. I like the decor.”

“Uh, thanks, I’ll tell Derek,” Scott says. He backs towards the kitchen, reluctant to take his eyes off Coach. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Water, but only if it’s Aquafina,” Coach says. “Otherwise, Pepsi’s fine. No ice, just the can.”

“Uh, okay.” He hands the can to Coach, who carefully arranges it so that his fingers don’t obstruct the logo before popping the tab and drinking. “Um, if you don’t mind my asking-”

“The pixies sent me,” Coach says. “You know, the ones that cursed you that one time? Made Derek Hale follow you around at school and look like the king of creepers?”

Scott blinks. “Wait, you know about-”

“Of course I know,” Coach says. “I’ve got a drop of fae blood in my genes, but more importantly, you kids talk really loudly. So, the pixies wanted to thank you for the gifts you left them, and they’ve decided to give you a gift in return.”

“Uh.” Scott leans back. He knows better than to accept a gift from fae, especially on Mischief Night. Especially from _Coach_. “They didn’t have to.”

“Of course they didn’t have to, that’s what makes it a gift,” Coach says. “Besides, they want to be on good terms with the first True Alpha in nearly a century.”

“I became an alpha-”

“Nearly five years ago, yeah, fae handle time differently than others,” Coach says. “They were going to give you this a few years back, but you were still all…” He waves his hands around “Muddled.”

Scott frowns. “I wasn’t _muddled_.”

“Oh, you were muddled,” Coach says, nodding firmly. “It’s not easy keeping the timelines straight in your head.”

“You _knew?_ ” Scott asks.

“Of course I knew. Fae handle time differently than others, Delgado, keep up.” He downs the rest of his Pepsi. “So. The gift.”

“I really can’t accept that,” Scott protests, but Coach ignores him and lays a pendant on the coffee table. It’s a clear green gem surrounded by intricate metalwork, hanging from what looks like a black shoelace. Well, fae were never really known for their fabrics, he supposes. “Really, Coach. I can’t.”

“No tricks, we promise,” Coach says. “You’re a True Alpha, you traveled through time, they respect that. Personally, I think that makes you a little crazy, but they respect that. This is pure fae goodness at work.” He makes a face. “That’s kind of an oxymoron, but just go with it.”

Scott eyes the pendant warily. “What does it do?”

“It’ll take away your memories of the other timeline,” Coach says. “You’ll get a clean start, just like everyone else did. Like you were supposed to get.”

“If I was supposed to forget, then I would have forgotten,” Scott says. “I couldn’t get a clean start, that’s the only way the spell would have worked.”

“If you say so,” Coach says with a shrug. “Time confuses me, anyway, I never really bothered to try to figure it out. But you can’t tell me you want to remember all that stuff. There was a lot of bad stuff, there.”

“But there was a lot of good stuff, too,” he says. “There were a lot of good people that I left behind, and I can’t forget them. I won’t.”

“So you’re refusing this, then?” Coach asks, nodding at the pendant.

Scott thinks for a moment. “I’m honored by their gift,” he says carefully, “But I cannot accept this.”

“Well, good.” Coach swipes the pendant off the table. “Because this is just a paperclip wrapped around a piece of a Heineken bottle, it wouldn’t have done anything.” He looks at it and shrugs. “Placebo effect, maybe. Probably would’ve worked if you really wanted it to.”

Scott watches Coach hang it around his neck. It shifts back and forth between exquisite gem and broken glass, and he rubs his eyes before he gets a headache. “Why’d they bother with it?”

“They like making things,” Coach says. “And really, it probably would’ve worked if you wanted it enough.”

“And?”

“What other ‘and’ would there be?” Coach asks, baffled. Scott waits patiently. Coach sighs. “Okay, _and_ they wanted to test you and see if you really deserved it.”

“Deserved what?”

“This.” Coach leans forward and flicks him, hard, in the middle of his forehead. “That’s their real gift. You’re a traveler, like us. You earned it.”

“Ow!” Scott flinches back and rubs his head. He can feel the indent from Coach’s fingernail. He hopes it isn’t permanent. “What was that?”

Coach looks at him worriedly. “That’s their real gift, I just told you.” He raps on his head. “You getting hard of hearing, Delgado? You’re too young for that.”

Scott bats his hands away. “No, my hearing’s fine, I just – that _hurt_.”

“Well, of course it did,” Coach says. “When something in your head gets knocked loose, that tends to hurt.”

Scott stares at him. “You knocked something loose in my head?”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He looks vaguely offended, then tilts his head thoughtfully. “I dunno, maybe it is, though.”

“There wasn’t anything in my head to knock loose in the first place,” Scott says. “I already remember everything.”

“Nah, there was a little piece of the puzzle you’ve been missing,” Coach says. He taps his head. “Can’t close a door without a latch, you know.”

He rubs at his forehead. He can still feel the mark. “Does that mean I’m going to forget?”

“Haven’t you been listening?” Coach says. “That’s up to you.” He claps Scott’s shoulder and stands up. “Well, this has been sufficiently weird, so I’m off. Oh, and you should tell Derek he’s gonna need a new pair of shoelaces for his boots.”

“Coach, wait!” He catches up to him as he reaches for the front door. “Happy birthday.”

Coach smiles. “Thanks, Scott.”

He shoves his hands in his pockets. “How old are you, really?”

“That’s pushing it.” Coach opens the front door to reveal Derek with a bag of groceries and a very confused look on his face. “Evening, Hale.” He saunters out the door, slapping Derek’s butt as he passes. “Shouldn’t be out so late. Weird things happen in this town on Mischief Night!”

Derek stares after him as he walks down the street and turns the corner. “I didn’t even know he was here,” he says.

“Yeah, Coach is weird like that, I guess,” Scott says.

“There’s a mark on your forehead.”

“Yep.”

“It’s crescent-shaped.”

“That it is.”

Derek shifts the groceries to his other arm. “Should I be worried?”

“I don’t know,” Scott says honestly. “It was a gift.” He steps back and opens the door wider. “You coming in or what?”

 

He stands and helps Lydia to her feet, and they walk carefully through the grass. He stops, turns, and lays his pen in the grass underneath her headstone.

She’d always forgotten hers.

Derek steps up next to him as he straightens. “This never happened,” he says.

“No,” Scott agrees. “You’re too young, and I’m too old.” He looks up at him, clean-shaven with his leather jacket and bright blue eyes. “Guess that’s why they call them dreams.”

“Do you miss me?”

“Every day.”

Derek stares at him stiffly, eyes guarded and so very vulnerable. “You said you never wanted to see me in him. You were terrified that he’d end up becoming me.”

“I was. I didn’t want him to turn into someone he wasn’t, and I thought he wasn’t you.”

“You didn’t want me anymore.”

“That’s your own insecurities talking,” Scott says. “I never stopped wanting you.”

“Which me?” Derek asks, steely and braced for a blow.

“Does it matter?” Scott says. “You’re the same person.”

“I’m-” Derek looks down, shoulders curving in on himself. “I am,” he says. “I didn’t want to be. I wanted to be better, for you.”

“You can’t be,” he says. “You’re already perfect.”

Derek rolls his eyes and tries to hide the small, pleased smile on his face. “You’re such a sap in your own head.”

“I’m a sap outside my own head too, Derek, that’s just who I am.”

“Yeah, and I love you for who you are,” Derek says easily. “I love you, Scott. I don’t say it enough, and I’ll never say it enough, but I love you.”

“It’s okay,” Scott says. “I know.”

He bites his lip. “I followed you after you left,” he says suddenly. “You were already gone, but I went after you.”

Scott frowns. “What are you talking about, Derek?”

“I came back before everything changed,” Derek says. “You’d already left, but when the sun came up and burned it all away – I was there when it happened.”

“That – Derek, how-”

“I wanted to see you again,” he says. “One last time. I’ve always been with you, you know, you just didn’t want to see me.” He toes the ground. “I don’t blame you, he’s better than me.”

“He’s you!” Scott shouts. “Derek, he’s you, you’re him, you’re the same person! There is no either, or both, there’s just you and I love _you!_ ”

The tiny, quietly happy smile is back. “Say it again.”

“I love you?” Scott tries. Then he understands. “There’s just you, Derek, and I love you.”

He ducks his head, beaming so widely that his eyes crinkle at the corners. “I’ve been waiting to hear that for a long time.”

“You were talking about things that I don’t remember,” Scott says. “Things that I can’t possibly remember because I wasn’t there. How-”

He wraps his arms around him, burying his face in the crook of his neck and breathing in deep. “I wanted to see you again, one last time. And now I got to.” He pulls back and looks at him with eyes that blur blue, yellow, and bright, beautiful green. “You won’t see me again, after this.”

“Of course I will,” Scott says. “You’re not going anywhere. I’ll see you again when I wake up.”

Derek smiles. “Yeah, I’m not going anywhere.” He kisses him softly. “It’s time to wake up, Scott.”

He shakes his shoulder. “I’m serious, you’re gonna be late for class. How did I even wake up before you? Scott, wake up.”

Scott opens his eyes with a sigh. “I had the weirdest dream,” he says.

“Me, too,” Derek says. “I was twenty-three again and I had really dumb hair.”

Scott’s heart skips. “What do you remember?” he asks.

“Nothing, really,” he says with a shrug. “One of those where you wake up and it all fades away before you even open your eyes.”

“Oh.” Scott sighs and stretches lazily. “I haven’t had one of those in years.”

“Maybe one day you will,” Derek says, watching him carefully.

“Nah,” he says. “I like remembering.”

 

There are fairy circles all over the Preserve, since it’s All Hallow’s Eve, but the one he wants stands out clearly from the rest. He carefully lays an extra large serving of animal fries from In-N-Out and the other shoelace from Derek’s boots in the center of the circle. “I’m pretty sure this is the last thing we left you last time,” he says. “Um. Thank you. For – everything, I guess. I get the feeling that what happened wasn’t really supposed to happen, so – thank you. I really appreciated it.”

“Scott?” He turns around to see Derek with his own giant serving of animal fries. “Guess we had the same idea,” he says, chuckling as he lays it down in the circle. “Is that what happened to my shoelace?”

“I’ll get you another pair,” Scott promises.

“Okay,” Derek says. He holds up his Samsung Galaxy S8. “Stiles wants us to hurry up and help set up the haunted house. He wants to try to scare Anton this year.”

“Well, as long as I don’t have to be the vampire again,” Scott says. “I don’t like being the vampire.”

Derek smirks. “Well, we can’t all be werewolves.”

 

Sometimes he’s afraid to fall asleep. Sometimes he’s afraid that he’ll wake up and they’ll be gone again, the Hales and Allison back in the cemetery, Boyd and Erica and Aiden in unmarked graves. Those nights, Derek tugs him close against his heart and brushes his lips over his ear. “You’re here,” he whispers. “This is real. You’re not going anywhere.” Scott hears his heart skip wildly over the last sentence, but Derek says it anyway. If he says it enough, maybe they’ll believe it one day.

Some days he ends up curled in a ball on the kitchen floor, clutching Basco tight and sobbing into his scruff. Because he  _is_  here, and so are all of them, and they get to have this. He gets to have this. He can only gasp out his thanks to voices he’ll never hear again.  _He_  gets to have this. He gets to have  _this_. “Thank you,” he sobs, curling in on himself while Basco licks tears from his face.  _“Thank you.”_

 

It’s really difficult to throw a surprise party for a werewolf. They’ll definitely sense a mass of people crowded behind a door in the first place, and even if they’re magically hoodwinked and somehow don’t sense all of that, their lack of senses will make them ragingly paranoid and they’ll end up tackling the nearest person to the ground and possibly out a second-story window. Not that Scott knows from experience, or anything. The gouges Erica left in his collarbone are totally healed; no one can prove a thing.

So, no, surprise parties aren’t really feasible anymore. Scott’s twenty-third birthday falls on a Friday, and Lydia and Jackson insist on driving up from grad school for the party. Lydia also insists on not missing class, so the party ends up taking place pretty late at night. Stiles invades his house that evening and locks him in the bathroom to shower while he and Kira set up. He’s Stiles, so Scott isn’t exactly surprised when he steps out of the shower to find the bathroom devoid of every scrap of fabric except for a towel that barely covers his ass.

“All right,” he says with a sigh as he throws the bathroom door open. “Very funny, guys.” There isn’t anyone in the hallway, though, and he notices the arrows – literal arrows, because Allison and Belladonna have a weird sense of humor – stuck to the wall and pointing towards the living room. There’s a sign underneath the first one that declares, “Don’t bother trying to find your clothes :)” in Malia’s handwriting.

“Come on,” he calls as he follows the arrows to the heartbeats congregated in the living room. “I’m dripping all over the floor here.” He hears lots of shuffling and excited shushing. “Fine, here I-” He steps out of the hallway and freezes.

Everyone’s there, which isn’t surprising. They take about fifty pictures and yell, “Surprise!” which also isn’t surprising. Jackson’s smirking at him with a microphone in hand, which isn’t even surprising after what happened on his seventeenth birthday. No, what’s surprising is Kira seated behind her drum kit, and Danny with his bass guitar, and especially Derek, in front, holding an electric guitar.

“What?” Scott asks dumbly. Derek smirks and starts playing; he recognizes the song immediately. “Oh, you’re such an asshole.”

“Happy twenty-third birthday, Scott,” Derek says, and Jackson starts singing “What’s My Age Again.”

Stiles nearly suffocates himself trying to smother his laughter in a pillow. Cora pantses Derek at the end of the song, and Kira falls off her throne when she gets an eyeful of his bare ass. Boyd and Isaac record everything, laughing the entire time.

 

“You drink hot chocolate so weird,” Scott says, watching Derek smack the bottom of his nearly-empty tumbler. “I can’t believe you actually eat that nasty stuff at the bottom. I can’t believe you _stir it wrong_ just so you can get _more_ of it.”

Derek tilts the tumbler upside down and licks the tiny bit of sludge that drips out. “You’re missing out,” he tells Scott. “This stuff is the best part.”

“Says the guy who doesn’t believe in ketchup.”

“Says the guy who puts ketchup on his _eggs_ ,” Derek counters. “Now that’s nasty.”

Scott snorts and loads the dishwasher. When he straightens, he sees Derek grabbing a spoon from the drying rack. “A spoon? Really?”

“Sometimes it gets a little stuck,” Derek says. He holds it up and digs in with the spoon down. “You just gotta – huh?”

“Huh?” Scott parrots.

Derek frowns and squints into the tumbler, scraping at it with the spoon. “There’s something-” His eyes widen, and Scott abruptly remembers what he’d written at the bottom.

“I, uh.” He shuts the dishwasher, licking his lips nervously. “I.”

Derek carefully puts the tumbler down on the counter. He bites his lip, looking at the floor, and then – and then a smile blooms on his face. “I know.”

“You know?” Scott repeats confusedly, heart thudding in his ears. “Derek?”

Derek looks up, beaming at Scott. “I love you, too.”

“You-” He’s across the kitchen in an instant, crowding Derek against the counter and kissing him frantically. “I love you,” he says between kisses, smiling so widely that their teeth clack together. “I love you, Derek, I love you.” Derek cradles his face, pressing kisses to his dimples as he nods. “I know. Scott, I know.”

Derek’s hands snake down to his ass, squeezing tightly before he lifts Scott clean off the floor. Scott wraps his legs tight around his waist with a groan. “God, I love you.”

They get to the bedroom eventually, stopping to kiss and shed as much of their clothes as possible. Scott accidentally elbows him in the head when he pulls his shirt off – sleeves are hard, okay – and Derek almost falls over trying to step out of his jeans, but they make it in the end.

Scott laughs when Derek literally tosses him onto the bed, bouncing onto the mattress while Derek tugs off his shoes. Scott sits up to help him and almost knees him in the eye. No, there’s no “almost” about it. He definitely knees him in the eye. “I’m sorry!” he laughs, tugging Derek forward to kiss his eye while Derek glares at him. “I love you?” he tries.

Derek pulls back with a huff, but the corners of his mouth curve up. “Damn right you do,” he mutters. He smacks Scott’s leg and moves away. “Get these off.”

“Where’re you going?” Scott asks, shimmying out of his jeans and underwear. Derek shuts a drawer and tosses the lube onto the bed. _“Oh.”_

“Yes, _oh_ ,” Derek mocks, pushing him back onto the bed with a smirk. He tucks pillows under his head and presses the lube into his hand. “Do you think you can manage to not punch me in the face?”

“Shut up,” Scott says. He leans up for a kiss, but Derek sits back. “Aw, come on!”

“Yeah, that’s the idea,” Derek says. His knees settle on either side of Scott’s head, and Scott’s mouth starts to water. “You know. Eventually.”

“Come on,” Scott says. He feels Derek coat his fingers in lube, but he can’t look away from Derek’s cock, thick and hard and just out of reach. He licks his lips and cranes forward. “Come on, Derek, come on.”

Derek finally slides his cock into Scott’s mouth. Scott moans and swallows as far down as he can, fondling his balls before drawing a finger back and circling his hole. Derek groans and spreads his legs wider. “Scott, come _on_.”

He hollows his cheeks and presses the tip of his finger in, holding Derek’s hips in place with his other hand. Derek whines. _“Scott.”_ He slowly pumps his finger in and out while Derek’s thighs tremble. “Scott, c’mon, _more_.”

Scott pushes two fingers in and crooks them, sucking hard when he brushes over the spot that makes Derek gasp and shake. He lets go of his hips, and Derek’s cock slides from his mouth as he fucks himself back onto Scott’s fingers.

“More?” Scott asks, spreading his fingers and twisting mercilessly. Derek shakes his head, eyes squeezed shut and biting hard on his lip. He whimpers when Scott pulls his fingers out, and Scott dives forward for one last taste of his cock.

Derek’s eyes fly open as his hips jerk into Scott’s mouth, and he glares at him as he pushes his shoulders back. “What?” Scott says, grinning at the string of spit connecting his lip to Derek’s cock. “I love the way you taste.”

“You’re so romantic,” Derek deadpans, reaching back for the lube.

“What, that was totally-” Scott groans as Derek’s hand closes around his cock, stroking him slowly and slicking him up. “Fuck, Derek.”

“That’s the idea,” Derek says, moving back and positioning himself over Scott’s cock.

“You’re really not as-” Scott bites his lip through a moan as Derek sinks down, torturously slow. “-funny as you, ah, think you are.”

Derek settles flush against Scott’s hips, grinding in small circles that have Scott struggling to catch his breath. “I’m hilarious,” he deadpans.

Scott’s retort dies on his tongue as Derek starts to move. He’s so hot and tight around him, lip caught under his teeth as he rolls his hips in deep, steady thrusts. “God, Derek,” he babbles. “You’re so good, you feel so good.” He moans as Derek snaps his hips down. “I love you so much.”

“Say it again,” Derek says, a sheen of sweat forming on his chest. He leans back and fucks himself harder onto Scott’s cock. “I want to hear it.”

“I love you,” Scott gasps. He plants his feet and snaps his hips up to meet Derek’s thrusts. Derek shudders, head falling back with a moan. “I love you so much, Derek, god, I love you. I love you.”

“Scott,” Derek moans, hips pumping frantically. “Scott, please, I need.” Scott leans up on one arm, tugging Derek down into a filthy kiss. Derek moans as Scott wraps his hand around his cock, stroking him in time to match his thrusts. “Scott. Scott, oh god.”

Scott kisses his way to Derek’s ear and sucks lightly on the lobe. “I love you,” he whispers, and Derek comes with a sob, spilling onto his chest.

Scott grips his hips tight as Derek squeezes around him, thrusting erratically into his tight heat. “Come on,” Derek mumbles, mouthing over his jaw. “Wanna feel you, come on.” His orgasm crashes over him, spilling deep into Derek as his hands dig bruises into his hips.

Derek sighs, dropping onto one elbow and running a hand through the cum on Scott’s chest. “I love you, too.”

The words send a thrill through his chest. He brings Derek’s hand up to his mouth and licks it clean. “I love you,” he says, kissing the tip of each finger. He tugs at his arms, trying to sit up, but Derek stays slumped on top of him. “Come on. This is gonna get seriously gross soon.”

Derek doesn’t move, though, so Scott can’t, either. “Just…stay, for a little bit.”

Scott tugs a pillow under his head. “Okay,” he says. “Anything you want.” Derek’s heart stutters for a split second. Scott presses a kiss to his knuckles. “I love you, Derek.”

He feels him smile against his throat. “I love you too, Scott.”

 

Scott bolts upright. “Derek!”

Derek wakes immediately, throwing the covers back and cupping his face. “Scott, I’m here, you’re here, you’re okay.”

“I know that,” Scott says peevishly. “You!” He shoves a finger into his face.

Derek goes cross-eyed trying to look at it. It looks even funnier with his yellow eyes. “Me?” he repeats confusedly.

“You totally Han Solo’d me!” Derek blinks at him. “When I said, ‘I love you,’ _you_ said, ‘I know.’ You Han Solo’d me!”

“What?” Derek blinks as his heartbeat slows and his eyes fade. “Did you…did you wake me up just to yell at me about Han Solo?” Scott crosses his arms and glares. “You seriously woke me up just to yell at me about Han Solo.”

“I finally watch Star Wars, and this is how you repay me,” Scott huffs.

“Okay, first of all, _Stiles_ has been the one whining at you to watch Star Wars since the beginning of time,” Derek says. “I don’t actually care. And second,” He tilts Scott’s chin up, staring earnestly into Scott’s eyes. “I meant it. You’ve always loved _me_. Even when I didn’t believe it, you did. And now…” He shrugs helplessly. “I know. I know you love me.”

“I’ve always loved you,” Scott says, smiling against Derek’s lips. “I love you.”

“I know,” Derek says. He kisses him. “And for the record, I think you’d look great with the cinnamon bun hair.”

Scott slaps his arm lightly. “I don’t know about that gold bikini,” he says, glancing down at his chest. “Not sure if I could pull that off.”

“Of course not,” Derek says. “I’d be the one pulling it off you.”

Scott snorts. They trade soft kisses back and forth until Scott feels his eyelids grow heavy. He settles against Derek’s back and is on the verge of falling asleep when Derek speaks.

“Full moon tonight,” he says. “Wolf Moon.” He says it casually, but Scott can see the rigidity in his shoulders, the tense line of his back and jaw. It happens every year, ever since Scott found him and left and came back and got lost. He wraps himself around Derek’s back, presses a kiss to the center of his triskele and feels Derek twine their fingers together across his chest.

It’s been five and seven and eight and fifteen years since they first met. Scott closes his eyes and breathes in the scent of Derek, and him, and home. His heart beats slow and steady. “I’m not going anywhere.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 is just a couple of charts of Derek's family tree, in case the legion of OC Hales got confusing.
> 
> I don't know how clear I made it, but Derek's father was a werewolf firefighter and died in an epic house fire a few years before the story. Which was really fucking cruel of me, but I did it anyway.
> 
> If you were confused about Isaac's sexuality here, he's aromantic non-asexual (it's up to you whether you consider him bisexual or pansexual; if you want to discuss my reasoning more, feel free to leave a comment or talk to me on [tumblr](http://www.pocketlass.tumblr.com)). I tried to allude to it as much as possible, but an actual statement/conversation didn't end up making it in.
> 
> I may return to this 'verse to expand on other characters/relationships, since a lot of them aren't in canon anymore anyway, and I like a setting where they're mostly happy. I have some ideas, but I don't know if I'll ever end up writing anything down. EDIT: WOW I LIED SO DAMN HARD THIS IS NOW AN ONGOING SERIES STAY TUNED FOR CHARACTER EXPANSION PACKS AND A MAYBE A SEQUEL.


	4. Derek's Family Tree

 

_ **2003** _

 

 

Talia Hale*, alpha werewolf (1957 - ) = _Roy Hale, beta werewolf (1964 - 2000)_

  * Laura Hale, beta werewolf (1983 - )
  * Derek Hale, beta werewolf (1988 - )
  * Cora Hale*, beta werewolf (1995 - )



 

Dahlia Hale*, beta werewolf (1959 - ) = Marcus Laroche*, human (1964 - )

  * Aaron Hale*, beta werewolf (1984 - )
  * Belladonna Hale*, beta werewolf (1987 - )
  * Darren Hale*, human (1992 - )
  * Eric Hale*, beta werewolf (1992 - ), adopted in 1996



 

_Amalia Hale, _beta werewolf (1962 - 1996)_ = George Hale , beta werewolf (1960 - 1996)_

  * [ Eric Hale, beta werewolf (1992 - ) ]



 

Peter Hale, beta werewolf (1967 - )

 

Lucas Laroche*, human (1964 - ) = Andrea Laroche*, human (1965 - )

  * Johanna Laroche*, human (1989 - )



 

* died in 2005 fire

 

 

* * *

 

** _2013_ **

 

Talia Hale, alpha werewolf (1957 - ) = _Roy Hale, beta werewolf (1964 - 2000)_

  * Laura Hale, beta werewolf (1983 - )
  * Derek Hale, beta werewolf (1988 - )
  * Cora Hale, beta werewolf (1995 - )
  * Isaac Lahey, human (1995 - ), adopted in 2009



 

Dahlia Hale, beta werewolf (1959 - ) = Marcus Laroche, human (1964 - )

  * Aaron Hale, beta werewolf (1984 - )
  * Belladonna Hale, beta werewolf (1987 - )
  * Darren Hale, human (1992 - )
  * Eric Hale, beta werewolf (1992 - ), adopted in 1996



 

_Amalia Hale, _beta werewolf (1962 - 1996)_ = George Hale, beta werewolf (1960 - 1996)_

  * [ Eric Hale, beta werewolf (1992 - ) ]



 

_Peter Hale, beta werewolf (1967 - 2011)_

  * [ Malia Tate, beta werecoyote (1995 - ) ]
  * [ Jackson Whittemore, beta werewolf (1995 - ) ]



 

Lucas Laroche, human (1964 - ) = Andrea Laroche, human (1965 - )

  * Johanna Laroche, human (1989 - )



 

_Mr. Lahey, human (1965 - 2011)_

  * _Camden Lahey, human (1988 - 2008)_
  * [ Isaac Lahey, human (1995 - ) ]



 

Tate Parents, human

  * Malia Tate, beta werecoyote (1995 - ), adopted in 1995
  * Felicia Tate, human (1998 - )



 

Whittemore Parents, human

  * Jackson Whittemore, beta werewolf (1995 - ), adopted in 1995



 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD I'M SUCH TRASH I FORGOT TO ADD THIS IN THE NOTES AND MAYBE NO1CURR BUT THE PEOPLE BEHIND THESE LINKS ARE AMAZING AND DESERVE CREDIT FOR INSPIRING ME SO
> 
> Okay, so this fic literally would have never existed if it hadn't been for stele3's [mini-fic/prompt about Scott going back in time and meeting bb!Derek](http://stele3.tumblr.com/post/41487542234/so-what-if-scott-goes-back-in-time-and-meets-all), which I never would have seen without swingsetindecember's [rec list](http://swingsetindecember.tumblr.com/post/83989801042/jens-derek-hale-scott-mccall-fic-recs). 
> 
> And shortly after, I re-read queerly_it_is's amazing Isaac/Scott ["Came home, like a stone (fell heavy into your arms)"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/484734), whose title is a line from ["I Will Wait" by Mumford & Sons.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rGKfrgqWcv0) And that song's refrain got me thinking about a couple waiting for each other through that time travel premise.
> 
> Of course, the fic that this ended up being didn't land anywhere close to any of these inspirations. But I never would've gotten there without these, so. Thank you, stele3, and swingsetindecember, and queerly_it_is, and Mumford & Sons, for coming together and planting this idea in my head.
> 
> Come say [hi](http://pocketlass.tumblr.com)!


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